WTNV: Heavenly shades of night are falling
by xIrelandx
Summary: Written as a continuation of castielinablanket's suggestion that Night Vale is just the delusions of a hospitalized Cecil, suffering from some sort of trauma. Cecil/Carlos, trigger warnings for rape and suicidal ideation.
1. Chapter 1

Carlos still couldn't say for sure what had prompted Cecil's breakdown. Only that he'd been fine and happy one day, and then overnight – literally overnight – he had devolved into a crying mess incapable of answering Carlos's questions or calming down. And the next day, Carlos couldn't get him to wake up at all.

He had been in a coma now for about five days, albeit not a very serious one. The hospital doctors said they were fairly certain that it was a self-induced coma, but Carlos refused to believe that Cecil would do anything to hurt himself. It simply wasn't in his nature. Cecil had always been happy-go-lucky, and any time he experienced a problem with somebody he simply talked about it. He just didn't keep secrets, and he especially didn't hide things from Carlos.

The nurses looked at one another with dark, worried expressions. 'Something really traumatic must've happened, then,' the doctor suggested, taking a moment to look up from his clipboard. 'Does he have any enemies, that you know of?'

Carlos blinked and stammered. 'What? No! Of course he didn't, no. Everybody loves Cecil. Even my parents love Cecil.' It wasn't exactly true – nobody was that popular. When they were still in college, there had been professors who found him too boisterous, classmates who found him too eccentric, and to be honest his constant optimism irritated Carlos from time to time. But these weren't exactly abnormal complaints, nor were they one-sided; Cecil had found those same professors boring, those same classmates moronic, and on occasion became irritated with Carlos's workaholic tendencies. But expecting everything to work out perfectly, without kinks, was simply unrealistic. Cecil managed to pass all his classes, shared a (somewhat grudging) respect with his classmates, and he and Carlos adored each other. Now Cecil's greatest opponents were those who disliked the radio station he worked at, the noisy neighbours who insisted he and Carlos were "too loud" (a thin veiled complaint about the fact that their relationship existed at all), and a group of school kids who liked to heckle everyone they passed.

Carlos realized that in his reverie he'd missed the doctor's exit. Everything else the doctor had said was blurred into background noise, and Carlos was now sitting in a chair next to Cecil's bed, all alone. Carlos looked down at his love, looking so untouched and calm for someone whom the doctors were sure had been attacked. Like he could wake up at any moment and begin to babble about the colour-less colour you saw when you closed your eyes. Like if Carlos just touched him, touched his face, he would groan in agitation and swat Carlos's hand away, rolling over with a request for five more minutes of sleep on his lips. Like they were back at home in their bed, and not in a sterile, cold hospital room.

Carlos had to look away from Cecil's face, trying to remember the breathing exercises his college adviser had taught him after his first official panic attack. And this time, just as with every other time, Carlos found that breathing slowly in and slowly out, in his nose and out his mouth, just didn't work for him.

For the first time in six years, Carlos placed his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and started to cry.

He had a memory, in dream-like quality - or maybe it was an actual dream - about the morning after.

* * *

_THE morning after, one of the only mornings that really mattered, in Carlos's opinion. Like waking up on Christmas morning as a child, and holding his breath to see if Santa Clause had actually come. And he did the same thing this time, afraid to open his eyes, just in case he'd imagined the whole thing, the past six months. _

_'Mmm,' Cecil hummed. 'What are you doing?'_

_Carlos couldn't control the smile that consumed his face as his eyes fluttered open. 'Nothing,' he whispered, nudging Cecil's nose with his own and leaning in to kiss him hello. 'Was it worth waiting?' Carlos asked, almost afraid of the answer. It was his idea to abstain, after all, not Cecil's. He'd been hurt too many times by men who were just "experimenting" or who had no intention of carrying on an actual relationship, either finding Carlos himself dull or too afraid to be out in such a hostile environment._

_Cecil opened his own eyes and graced Carlos with an elegant, lopsided frown. 'Carlos, I'm hurt that you would doubt me.' Cecil smiled as he nuzzled against Carlos's neck, and his heart sped up. 'You are worth everything,' Cecil breathed._

* * *

Carlos woke with what he at first thought was an unexplained sadness, until he'd remembered about Cecil. It felt like something was trapped in his head and trying to get out by knocking his forehead down with the hammer of the gods. His left hand was cold, and extended away from his body, just resting on Cecil's side of the bed. It had been three weeks since Cecil's break down, two weeks and four days since he woke up, and two weeks and one day since he was admitted to the mental hospital just across the street from the research lab where Carlos worked. Last night was the first time since this all happened that Carlos managed to get more than two consecutive hours of sleep. He had insisted that Cecil be placed in the Night Vale Mental Hospital not only because it was nearby, but because both he and Cecil knew - or rather, had known - one of the doctors in residence there.

Steve Carlsberg had been a year ahead of Cecil and Carlos at school, but because organic chemistry – a class required for all people majoring in some form of science – was so difficult to get into, Carlos and Steve found themselves in the same class. Carlos always found Steve intimidating, and the feeling only heightened when Cecil told him, in the most off-handed way possible, that he and Steve had once dated. Carlos didn't have a lot of options, though, and the hospital where Steve worked was one of the best in the state. And this morning, Carlos decided with an abject and somber determination, he was going to talk to Steve and visit Cecil.

His colleagues at the lab had been pushing him to go for the past week and a half, but Carlos always managed to find a way out of visiting. 'He's probably waiting by the door for you to come get him,' Paolo insisted. 'Come on, you know how sensitive he is. If you wait too long, you might hurt his feelings.'

Carlos had to restrain himself from snapping at Paolo – for implying Cecil was weak, for insinuating their relationship wasn't strong enough to withstand a few weeks' separation, but mostly for assuming he understood the situation at all. Carlos had to take a deep breath before nodding and making a hollow promise to go after work. Paolo shook his head with a disgusted sigh. 'You know, man, there are some things in life more important than science.'

It was really lucky for Paolo that Vanessa needed his help with an especially tricky experiment, because Carlos was in no shape or mood to deal with any more nagging than the immense guilt he already felt. It wasn't Paolo's fault, strictly speaking, as Carlos hadn't told anyone the full story – only that Cecil was in the hospital for an extended stay.

The only person who knew the whole story, aside from Steve and Carlos, was Dana. She was an intern at the radio station where Cecil worked, and she'd grown close to Cecil over the past couple months in which she'd been interning. She was one of the only interns that Station Management actually liked, probably in part because she didn't mess with – and thereby accidentally break – any of the equipment. But being close to Cecil also meant being close to Carlos, as Cecil hardly kept their relationship a secret. It was an aggravation at first, when they'd only just met, but over time it had become one of Cecil's most endearing traits. By the time Carlos and Dana actually met, she knew almost everything about him. It stood to reason, then, that Carlos would feel comfortable explaining the situation to her.

She, too, was stunned into disbelief. 'He doesn't remember you…at all?'

Carlos shook his head, and then remembered he was on the phone. 'My name didn't even sound familiar to him.'

'So –' he could hear her rustling papers in the background, and then plopping them on a table. He heard a small huff, and assumed she was now sitting on the counter, out in the sound booth where she usually monitored Cecil's show. Carlos closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. 'So, did he think you were just another doctor?' she asked.

'I haven't…been to see him yet,' Carlos admitted. 'They only just told me he woke up.'

'What?' Dana snapped. 'How long has he been awake?'

'Two days.' He heard Dana swear on the other end of the phone, and he shook his head again. 'They didn't want to let me in at first. They thought –' he had to do his breathing exercises again, control his anger. He'd had time to get used to the news, to what the doctors thought. Dana didn't have that luxury. 'They thought I'd raped him. And that he tried to kill himself.'

There was a silence on the other end, and Carlos figured that Dana was finding the idea a little difficult to make sense of. He couldn't stand the silence, and suggestion – though ludicrous, made him feel guilty. Like there was something wrong with him, like it was his fault something like this had happened to Cecil. So he did the only thing he could think to do, and talked through the silence.

'They asked me for, uhm, for a specimen, and tested it. And it wasn't a match for…' Carlos had to swallow the scream that threatened to rise from his throat every time he even thought about it. 'For what they did find,' he finished in one breath.

Dana was silent for a moment more, before speaking up, voice cracking. 'So they did find – he was –'

'Yes,' Carlos answered. He heard a retching noise and closed his eyes, pretending he was anywhere else, having any other conversation with anybody else. Just that he wasn't here, and that this wasn't real.

'Oh, God,' Dana said, and she gave up the pretense that she wasn't crying. 'Who –'

'They don't know,' Carlos answered. 'Just that he's… that he's… unwell. They've taken him to a mental hospital,' he let Dana's sobs fill up the space in between them. When she quieted a bit, he spoke up again. 'They want me to visit him, see if I can't break him out of…whatever this is he's gotten himself into. But I just… I don't know if I can. I don't know that I'm strong enough to do that.'

* * *

_'It didn't last very long,' Cecil assured him about Steve Carlsberg, as Carlos attempted to school his face into something a little less panic-stricken. 'I think he's still a little sore about it, though. He's been grumpy ever since.'_

_'So do you, ah,' Carlos cleared his throat. 'Just have a thing for scientists or something?' _

_Cecil tilted his head. 'Well, I quite like science, although I'm not very good at it. Too much math involved, really. I just happen to have met a lot of really passionate scientists. Passion is sort of an important factor in a relationship, after all,' Carlos hummed in agreement, trying not to compare himself to Steve so much. 'But Earl wasn't a scientist. Come to think of it, I don't even know what happened to Earl. Maybe he's been kidnapped by a pack of rabid boy scouts or something,' Cecil suggested, voice deadly serious. Carlos couldn't hold back his laughter, though he often tried whenever Cecil's voice took on that melodramatic, radio-announcer tone. It had become a game with them – Carlos trying to remain calm, and Cecil trying everything in his power to shake the façade. _

* * *

Carlos was still sitting in his car, staring at the building ahead of him. The car was turned off and his seatbelt was unbuckled, but he still felt like he couldn't move. He knew it was just a fantasy, just a ridiculous dream that he could turn around now and have things be the same as they were nearly a month ago. That he could go home and Cecil would be waiting for him, feeding the stray cat that sometimes slept on their couch. That they could watch another _X-Files_ marathon on the Syfy channel, make out for a while and fall asleep on the uncomfortable couch because they kept forgetting that they weren't teenagers anymore.

He managed to force his hand up, to unlock the door and step out of the car, to start walking to front of the building, but he couldn't remember actually doing any of it. He felt like he was floating, like his actions were being controlled by somebody else or like he was being wheeled into the hospital and having an out-of-body experience. It felt unreal, even as he signed the visitor forms and received his My Name Is sticker.

He was about to turn and find a seat in the stark waiting room when the desk clerk, a kindly older woman, called his name. He looked up to her, blinking slowly. 'You're here to see Cecil, correct?' she asked.

Carlos nodded. 'Have you spoken to the patients here?'

'Oh, yes, of course,' she said. 'Cecil is such a sweetheart. He's one of our calmer patients. He mostly just sits in his room and does his radio broadcast.' Carlos blinked in confusion. 'Oh, not a real broadcast, of course,' she tittered. 'But he seems to think he's reaching quite an audience, giving community bulletins and sports updates. He skips over the weather, though – he usually sings that bit, instead of actually reporting it.'

Carlos wasn't sure what to say to this, so he just nodded and found a seat. The room was empty except for him, but he knew there had to be other people at this hospital. So where were their parents, their loved ones?

'Carlos,' a voice boomed, and Dr Steven Carlsberg followed it. 'It's been so long,' Steve greeted, shaking Carlos's hand. Steve's hand looked as though it might have been warm, but even the palm of his hand was like ice. The stark contrast was enough to completely wake Carlos up. 'How have you been doing?' Steve asked.

'Well, you know,' Carlos nodded to the door. He'd never been very good with words, but he hadn't thought they'd be required in this sort of a situation. After all, his boyfriend of five years was currently sitting, straight-jacketed, in a rubber room. (Or so Carlos imagined – he'd never been in a mental hospital before, and had done everything in his power to avoid going near them. It wasn't that the people within them scared him, so much as the very thought made him sad. He'd wanted to be a psychology student at one point in his life, and had nearly memorized the entire DSMIV. With every symptom mentioned, he felt himself sinking lower and lower into an overwhelming feeling of doom.)

Steve merely nodded and dropped Carlos's hand. 'Surprised to see you two are still together,' he goaded, but Carlos avoided the bait. He wasn't here for a pissing contest, and the last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of a man who stood between him and Cecil. 'You get the 4-1-1 from Old Woman Josie over there?'

Carlos looked to the desk clerk, and then back to Steve.

'That's what Cecil calls her – Old Woman Josie. Wait 'til you hear his show – you'll get a kick out of it.' Carlos tried not to let Steve's nonchalant attitude get to him, but it was quickly becoming grating. There was looking on the bright side of things, and then there was making light of a bad situation.

'Can I see him?' Carlos asked through gritted teeth. _And if you say, "I dunno, can you?" I will punch you so hard your front teeth will fall out, you sick bastard_, he thought. But Steve only nodded and waved for Carlos to follow him through a locked door.


	2. Chapter 2

_The first time Carlos saw Cecil was at a fraternity party. He wasn't in the fraternity, and neither was Cecil, but Carlos's roommate had insisted he attend anyway. Carlos was standing in the back of living room with a red Solo cup, pretending to drink what was in it, and watching other people dance (if, in fact, you could actually call it dancing). He'd never really been able to get into these sorts of things – even prom was a pretty boring affair, and tonight's festivities were no different. Carlos was just contemplating ditching the party when the torturous techno music stopped without warning, and switched to an odd, ambient acoustic number. The people in the center of the room grumbled, and someone in the house shouted, with laughter, 'Who let Cecil behind the DJ booth?'_

_Cecil stepped out, smiling in a way that showed he wasn't embarrassed or even sheepish about the prank he'd just pulled. 'Caught me,' he sang, and pranced away from the booth. At first, he was headed in the direction of the guy who called him out, but he looked over at Carlos at the same time Carlos had been looking over at him, and smoothly changed direction._

_'Hi,' Cecil offered his hand. 'I don't think I know you. I'm Cecil, communications major. You are…'_

_It took Carlos a moment to get his bearings together, struck for a moment by the purple lipstick eye drawn on Cecil's forehead, to match the tattoos – some very real and others smudged with sweat – that adorned his arms. In the neon lights that set the room into colour panic, Cecil nearly seemed to be glowing._

_'Carlos,' Carlos finally answered, extending his hand as well. Cecil's fingers were warm and inviting, like he was hugging Carlos with just the one hand. Carlos marveled at the feeling, and wondered what sort of chemicals caused that kind of reaction. 'Physics major, chemistry minor.'_

_Cecil nodded with a brilliant smile, and opened his mouth to speak again when the all too familiar noise of human sickness made its way to their ears. Both men turned around, and Carlos spotted his roommate leaning against the railing, held up by another – equally drunk – partygoer who currently laughing at their situation. _

_'Shit,' Carlos hissed. 'I should, uh,' he turned to his head back to Cecil, surprised to find that he was the centre of the man's full attention. 'I should – I should get him back to our room.'_

_'Oh,' Cecil said sort of lightly. A sound of hopeful disappointment._

_'He's my roommate,' Carlos clarified, before blushing madly and turning to help his roomie back to their third-floor abode._

* * *

The ward didn't look the way Carlos had expected it to. Granted, he wasn't exactly sure what he should be expecting, but the walls were a slight lavender and there were obscure pictures hung on the wall with some sort of mysterious substance to ensure that nobody could knock them off and there was soft sort of music playing that reminded Carlos of the night he and Cecil first met, and Carlos knew for a fact that this wasn't what he'd been expecting. It was also hot in the building, as though the air conditioner had broken down and no one had bothered to set up a fan yet. The windows were shut tight – which was understandable – but nobody seemed too bothered by the stifling warmth.

Carlos wanted to ask Steve something, anything, to break the awkward silence between them, but he wasn't sure what to ask. What would even be appropriate in this situation? Steve seemed more comfortable with the silence than Carlos, but the Carlos was used to Cecil's constant, easy talking. They shared quiet moments together, of course, but Cecil was used to long shifts of news-reporting and sometimes it was hard for him to break free of his radio-announcer persona. Carlos didn't mind it though, not at all. Cecil's voice had a way of calming him down…

But not now. Not when Carlos could hear it muffled through a door and knew it meant that Cecil was carrying on conversations with an invisible audience. Speaking aloud was one thing; thinking others were joining in was another.

'He's just here,' Steve pointed to the door. Carlos looked at him, and back at the door before knocking timidly.

Cecil stopped talking, and Carlos heard some rustling before the door creaked open. Cecil's forehead and eyes looked over the door at Carlos, and Carlos shuddered involuntarily. He hadn't planned this part. Getting himself into the hospital at all had been a challenge all its own, and now he was confronted with this person, this man he knew better than anyone, transformed into a total stranger. He realized he'd opened his mouth, but couldn't see reason to close it. He just needed to say something. Anything.

Cecil's voice erupted, lower than Carlos had ever heard it, as he introduced the room to Carlos. 'A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale.'

* * *

_Carlos heard about Cecil a lot, both before and after they met. Carlos was a transfer student, and hence was treated like a freshman by a lot of his classmates. He was in his second year, just like Cecil, but people still insisted that Cecil was the best person to go to for any necessary information. Nobody else on the campus was all that helpful, and so Carlos found himself holding a slip of paper with Cecil's number on it only two days after they'd officially met. _

_As a scientist, Carlos knew that there were no such things as stupid questions, but even this particular felt dumb to him. He had to ask, though; tasks such as these had to get done sooner or later. So Carlos took a deep breath, swallowed what little pride he had and dialed the number._

_'Hullo?' Cecil had picked up on the first ring, like he'd been waiting for a call._

_'Hi, Cecil,' Carlos said, blushing furiously. 'Oh! This is, uhm –'_

_'Carlos! I'd recognize your voice anywhere.'_

_Carlos wasn't sure how that was possible. They'd only spoken for a few minutes at the party, and it wasn't as though Carlos had a particularly remarkable personality. 'Yeah. Uh, hi,' he offered lamely._

_'So, what's up? Got any pictures of the ghost that lives in room three-oh-four?'_

_Carlos pulled the phone back from his ear and blinked, temporarily distracted. 'I don't – I don't think that room actually exists, Cecil.'_

_'Really?' he sounded genuinely surprised. 'Huh. I'm gonna have to write that down –' and Carlos did, indeed, hear scribbling sounds on the other end of the phone. 'So,' he sighed. Carlos felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and looked behind him. He could have sworn he felt something. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'_

_'Well I just – I can't…' Carlos broke off._

_'Use your words, Carlos,' Cecil encouraged._

_Carlos had become so red in the face that cheeks were aching with the effort of trying to calm himself down. A few passer-byes were looking on with concern, but not stopping to ask. Carlos examined his shoes. 'I can't find the laundry room,' he whispered._

_There was a pause. 'Oh,' Cecil said softly. 'Is that all?' Carlos groaned. 'Where are you? It's easier to show you than to try to explain. I'm fairly certain that the stairs only exist every other Tuesday.'_

_Despite himself, Carlos laughed. He quickly covered his face with his hand. 'I'm ah, in front of… Well, honestly, this monument sort of looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster.'_

_'Oh, good! You're learning the local lingo. I'll be right there,' Cecil chirped, and the line went dead. _

_Carlos held the phone back out before hitting the "end" button with shaking fingers. He stood with his laundry bag on his shoulder, hoping that Cecil was for real and not making fun of him and that, in the large scale of things, his life wasn't some sort of massive joke on the part of the universe._

* * *

Cecil sat cross-legged on the floor, indicating with his right hand that Carlos should join him. Carlos sat down across from Cecil, squirming awkwardly in the lack of space as Cecil started to "read a notice" about a dog park that neither humans nor dogs were allowed in. Carlos observed the room. It looked, to be honest, like a college dorm room. There weren't any posters or school books, but there was a paperback library copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ sitting on a desk up against the wall, next to a bottle of water. The walls did have a few drawings taped to them – one of which appeared to be a picture of just a cloud, hanging above Cecil's bed.

'A new man came into town today,' Cecil continued. Carlos's head snapped to him. Cecil was holding his hands over his ears, as though imitating headphones, and he was staring intently – if blankly – at Carlos. 'Who is he? What does he want he want from us? Why his perfect – and beautiful – haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist –' Carlos's heart jumped, because he hadn't actually re-introduced himself yet. _He must remember me, somehow_, the hopeful part of Carlos's brain insisted.

Cecil continued to talk, oblivious to Carlos's enlightenment. 'Well, we have all been scientists as one point or another in our lives,' Carlos's heart rate sped up. Cecil had insisted this to him a while ago, on their first date. 'But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he is renting – the one next to Big Rico's pizza?' And his heart dropped again. Big Rico's wasn't a reference to anything from their life before this horrible incident, not that Carlos could recall.

But still, Cecil kept talking. 'No one does a slice like Big Rico's. _No one_,' it sounded so much like a threat, and so serious, that Carlos couldn't hold back a laugh, smile breaking out for the first time in… For the first time in much too long.

Cecil was momentarily broken from his pretend radio broadcast. He blinked, and for a split second his eyes returned to normal, before returning back to their vacant stare. He continued to talk about his fictional community, citing another fictional city – Desert Bluffs – as a rival.

Carlos's mind was flooded with possible solutions and further problems, the noise in his head swallowing up his ability to breathe until he heard his name. 'That new scientist, we now know is named Carlos,' Carlos sucked in a breath involuntarily, and held it. 'Called a town meeting. He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery,' Carlos snorted – of all the obscure compliments Cecil had lavished upon him during their time dating, this was a new one. 'His hair is _perfect_, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure.

'Old Woman Josie brought corn muffins – which were decent, but lacked salt. She said the angels had taken her salt for a godly mission, and she hadn't yet gotten around to buying more.'

Old Woman Josie, at least, was a real person. _The desk clerk_, Carlos reminded himself. _The angels though… Maybe it's a _Supernatural_ reference?_ he thought.

'Carlos told us that we are, by far, the most scientifically interesting community in the US, and he had come to study just what was going on around here. He grinned, and everything about him was perfect. And I fell in love…instantly.'

There was a slight pause, and it seemed as though Cecil had broken again. In the background, he could hear Cecil continue (something about a vague, yet menacing government agency and fearing for Carlos's safety). But Carlos didn't really hear any of it, because he felt his stomach drop and his blood run cold, and he thought that he might pass out.

* * *

_'I don't know, I think I might like to do a sort of old-school horror radio show. Like _the Twilight Zone_, y'know?'_

_They were laying on the grass a few yards away from their first apartment, holding hands and just looking up. _

_Carlos laughed. 'Yeah, I can definitely see you doing that. Are you going to write it too, or just announce it?'_

_'And let someone else mess up the beauty of obscurity? Of course I'm gonna write it! Jeeze, Carlos,' Cecil snarked, and they both laughed. _

_'And are you going to divulge information about your private life on this radio show too, or is that only something you only share with the greater tri-state area?'_

_Cecil laughed again. 'What makes you think the greater tri-state area won't hear my horror radio show?'_

_Carlos shrugged. 'I just sort of thought that you meant like, you know, a podcast or something. More independent. Just seems like you.'_

_Cecil was staring at Carlos with the same sort breath-taken reverence with which he regarded the stars, beautiful poetry, and other unbelievably unique things. Carlos never thought he deserved that sort of look, but Cecil insisted Carlos was the most beautiful matter with which he'd ever come into contact. 'Yeah,' he whispered. 'You're right.' His gaze turned back to the stars._

_Trying to bring the conversation out of the deep intensity he now felt, Carlos smiled and jokingly asked. 'And will here be a brave, strong scientist in this storyline too?'_

_Cecil smiled. 'Well of course there will be. Someone's got to find all of the weird shit going on strange. Every Mulder needs a Scully,' he said. Carlos couldn't get his heart to slow down because he knew when Cecil said this, that what he meant was every Cecil needs a Carlos. They'd been on this verge for so long, waiting to see who would topple over first. And Carlos was so afraid it would be him._

_'What sort of strange goings-on?' he encouraged, hoping that the severity would both go away and multiply. 'Earth quakes no one can feel? Houses that don't exist? Mysterious lights hanging over the local Arby's?'_

_Cecil smiled wider, turning back to Carlos. 'That, and so much more, dear Carlos.' Carlos hummed and moved closer, resting his head on Cecil's shoulder. It was peaceful like this, with the quiet buzz of nature lulling them to sleep. Carlos felt Cecil take a deep breath, and his radio-announcer broke out. 'There's a new man in town, ladies and gentleman. He says he is a scientist – well, sure he is, aren't we all? His name is Carlos. He called a town meeting to discuss the miniature community living in the hollowed-out space beneath lane five of the bowling alley. He smiled as he shook my hand. Everything about him was…' Cecil paused, trying to find the right word, as his fingers drew patterns on Carlos's hand. 'Perfect,' he finished. 'And I fell in love,' Carlos gasped, 'Instantly.'_

_Carlos stammered and, afraid his words wouldn't be loud enough for Cecil to hear, all but shouted 'I love you too, Cecil.'_

_Cecil giggled, and Carlos expected to feel rejection at the laughter. But he couldn't. The feeling simply wasn't there, and he knew it was because he trusted everything Cecil said and knew that Cecil would never hurt him._

* * *

Carlos didn't remember his panicked running from the hospital. He didn't notice Cecil's reaction, if he even had one, nor could he recall Steve trying to calm him down or Old Woman Josie – damnit, no, Josie the desk clerk, calling for him to come back again.

He sat with his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning from blood red to white to blue, and giving up on the idea that any amount of breathing exercises or happy thoughts could take him out of this situation. 'This,' he told himself between sobs and pants and gasps for air, 'is the real world. This is what my life has become. This is what _Cecil's_ life has become.' He started to calm down slowly, the shaking eventually slowly down enough for him to start the car and back out. He still cried, silent tears streaking down his face as he drove back to the lab.

'Carlos,' Vanessa said with shock. 'What are you doing back here? Didn't we tell you to go to the hospital and see Cecil?'

Carlos nodded, thankful that the strain of looking through microscopes at objects too difficult to be seen even with magnification meant he always looked like he'd been crying. Even if he didn't feel strong or secure on the inside, he could at least fake it to everyone else. 'I think I'm going to need your help,' he told Vanessa.

She nodded before his sentence was even finished. 'Anything. What do you need?'


	3. Chapter 3

If there was something Vanessa knew better than anyone else in the lab, it was how to play along. She'd been going for a dual degree in acting and creative writing when an obligatory science class – some sort of forensic chemistry, if Carlos recalls correctly –swept her off her feet. But that definitely doesn't mean her love affair with the arts has died. Not even a little.

'So, what are you looking for, story-wise?' she asked Carlos. 'Eldritch abominations, Lovecraftian horror, a little Poe, or are you thinking more along the _Amnesia_, _Resident Evil_, _Silent Hill_ line?'

Carlos blinked and almost pointed out that those last three were all very different from each other (he should know – Cecil made Carlos play them all with him), but let it slide at the last minute. 'A sort of 50's horror type thing. More along the lines of Plan 9 than ah… any of the rest of it.' Vanessa nodded, doodling something down on her legal pad. 'Unexplained disappearances,' Carlos added as an afterthought.

'_Twin Peaks_?' she asked, and Carlos shook his head.

'More like…things that are there one day, but then cease to exist the next. Unexplainable phenomena, especially of the meteorological sort.'

Vanessa nodded. '_X-Files_,' and looked up at Carlos. 'No _Buffy_?'

'No _Buffy_,' he confirmed. 'I'm fairly certain no vampires are involved.' He allowed a beat to entertain the idea. 'Yet.'

Vanessa pouted for a moment before returning to her drawing and notes. She chewed the end of her pen for a moment, then thrust the document at Carlos.

'This'll work?' he asked with some trepidation.

Vanessa shrugged. 'There's no way to be completely sure, but it worked for Gene Roddenberry.'

'That was the sixties,' Carlos commented drily. Vanessa glared at him, and he softened. 'It'll be fine. Cecil is so –' Carlos had to stop himself from saying far gone or crazy, although both were accurate descriptions for their current situation. 'Whacked out on meds,' Carlos decided, 'That I don't think he'll notice.'

'He'll be okay though, won't he?' Vanessa asked softly. Carlos was shocked to hear the fear in her voice. It had never occurred to him before that his co-workers cared about Cecil as well. Vanessa hardly even knew him.

'They say he'll…' He took a deep breath, and not entirely for show. 'It'll take him a while to heal,' Carlos said.

Vanessa nodded. 'Well, if you need anything… I'm here.'

Carlos swallowed the knot in his throat and tried not to start crying again. He hated when people were so kind and caring. He never knew what to say in return. 'Thank you, Vanessa,' he whispered, and started to back his way out of the lab again.

'When are you going back to the hospital?' Vanessa called out. There was something to her expression, in her eyes, maybe, that gave Carlos the impression she already knew what he hadn't said.

'Tomorrow,' Carlos choked out.

'Tell him I say hi,' she asked. Their eyes remained locked for only a few seconds, and Carlos knew that he was the same as ever: an open book, no matter how hard he tried to close himself, tried to construct blank pages. He nodded to Vanessa, unable to pity any more, and left.

* * *

_Carlos couldn't decide if Cecil really meant half of the things he said. Especially when he was on the air. And talking about Carlos._

_'Lovely Carlos, the station's favourite… oh, okay, your DJ's favourite scientist, has requested that all students aged twenty-one and up fill out the survey on the school's website. I'm not really sure what it's for, but I'm sure whatever it is, is pretty neat!'_

_Carlos groaned and covered his face with his hands as a few sophomore girls looked in his direction and started to giggle. This wasn't the first time Cecil had brought Carlos up on his radio show, and Carlos was sure it wouldn't be the last. But that didn't stop him from feeling humiliated every time it happened._

_'"Neat?"' Carlos heard the radio hiss as Cecil berated himself – as far away from the microphone as he could get, but still loud enough for his voice to pick up. 'What the hell did I just say?!'Carlos switched the radio off, and tried not to feel too guilty. Cecil was his friend, for lack of a better word, and he really wanted to support his show. But Carlos had enough first-hand embarrassment to deal with without feeling Cecil's second-hand embarrassment as well._

_People around campus had started to refer to him as 'Cecil's Carlos,' which was extra awkward since Carlos wasn't even out yet. But supposedly Cecil was infatuated with him, and talked about him constantly, and so everyone just assumed they were dating._

_Carlos tried to broach the subject with Cecil once, but found he couldn't stand the idea of hurting the other man's feelings. 'I really just wish you wouldn't call me perfect,' Carlos blurted with embarrassment. _

_Cecil quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Why not?'_

_'Because you don't really know me. Trust me, Cecil, I'm not perfect. Not close. I'm not even halfway decent.'_

_Cecil waved his hand. 'Theoretically speaking, we are all perfect. There may be an ideal for all inanimate objects for which we only see the shadows. But there is only one you, dear Carlos, and so you, therefore, are perfect Carlos.'_

_Carlos couldn't find the words to argue with that, so he just dropped it._

* * *

Dr Carlsberg clearly hadn't been expecting Carlos to come back so soon. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?' he asked, eyes wide.

Carlos could feel his patience growing thin, as it always did when Steve was nearby. 'I'm here to see Cecil. Again. If that's okay,' he added.

Steve nodded. 'Yeah, sure,' he said, and began to lead Carlos back the way they'd come yesterday. 'He's been talking about you nonstop. It's…cute,' Steve said in a way that indicated he actually found it rather annoying. And with that one tone of voice, Carlos felt as though they were just repeating their first meeting all over again.

Steve pushed ahead of Carlos when they got to the door, knocking twice before turning the knob.

Cecil was sitting in the same position in the same spot in the same clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. His eyes were strained, bulging with their red veins popping out, and Carlos wondered how long it had been since Cecil had slept. He had a sinking feeling the last day his love had slept well was before the coma. He just wasn't sure how long "before" was.

Cecil didn't see Carlos at first, just Steve. When he looked up at his intruders, he glared at the doctor and stopped his rhythmic swaying. 'Steve Carlsberg is a huge jerk,' he growled to his imaginary audience. Steve only rolled his eyes and indicated for Carlos to enter the room, closing the door behind him.

'Oh, Carlos!' Cecil cried. 'The station's favourite scientist. While you're here, how about an interview?'

'Oh, uh, no thanks. Cecil. I just –' Carlos took the small box Vanessa had helped him craft out of cardboard, duct tape, and spare wiring out of bag he'd brought in with him. Explaining it to the desk clerk had been an interesting experience, but as she'd already grown accustomed to "playing along" with Cecil's radio show, Dr Carlsberg was the difficult one to persuade.

'What does it do, exactly?' he'd asked.

'Well, nothing,' Carlos responded. 'It's just a prop.'

He counted himself lucky that Steve wasn't more curious.

Carlos waited patiently as Cecil described the box to his "listeners." When he seemed satisfied with his inspection, he smiled at himself, and then at Carlos. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. On anyone else, the expression might have looked suspicious, but not to Carlos. Carlos knew Cecil – and that look – far too well. 'So Carlos,' Cecil began. 'What are you doing for dinner tonight?'

'Cecil, I can't –' he swallowed as Cecil leaned in to him, batting his eyelashes. 'I'm not here for personal reasons,' he lied. 'I need you to tell your listeners that if they see this box –' he pointed to the makeshift recording device –'They should tell it everything. Whatever they can remember.' Cecil blinked slowly. 'It's a study I'm doing,' Carlos said, voice growing steady. He never thought it would be so easy to lie to Cecil, and he worried what this said about his life and their relationship.

Cecil nodded, but went back to flirting anyway. 'What about the weekend? Any plans?'

Carlos couldn't handle his agitation, and reached out to grab Cecil's arm. 'Cecil,' he begged. 'I need you to focus.' Cecil had indeed focused, but not on Carlos's words. He was enraptured with where Carlos was touching him, and started to trace the outline of Carlos's fingers.

'Cecil!' Carlos barked. 'Damnit, Cecil, we don't have time for this!'

Cecil looked up, but the knowing gaze from yesterday that Carlos had been hoping for wasn't making a reappearance. His eyes looked vacant as ever. 'Cecil, I fear for you,' you whispered. His fingers were trembling and he could feel everything shifting upwards, becoming displaced like things always did whenever Carlos felt a panic attack coming on.

'You…fear for me?' Cecil asked, sounding flattered.

Carlos sighed, and let his forehead rest against Cecil's. He took Cecil's neck in his hands and kissed his forehead. 'I'll be back to check on you later,' he promised, but Cecil didn't seem to register the last few moments. He'd gone back into his head, back to talking about the dog park no one was allowed to enter and the angels and Old Woman Josie.

Carlos left the room slowly this time, hoping that Cecil would notice him leaving, would ask him not to go. Would do or say anything to show that he recognized the world outside of his daydreams. But he showed no signs of moving, no signs of noticing.

* * *

_Carlos was always an unintentional open book. If he was upset about something, people tended to know. He'd always wanted to hide it, but trying to create a cover always made his emotions look more intense than they actually were. The only thing he was capable of appropriately hiding was laughter. Cecil, on the other hand, appeared to wear his heart on his sleeve, and so it never occurred to Carlos that Cecil – Mr Popularity, the Voice of Night Vale City College (as he'd been dubbed by yearbook staff) – would have self-esteem issues until about three months into their relationship._

_'We need to talk,' Carlos said. There was a bizarre sort of power to be gained by saying those words, instead of being on the receiving end of them. Cecil was unusually still and silent where he sat on the common room couch. 'Cecil?' Carlos asked, but Cecil only grunted in reply. 'Cecil,' Carlos said, voice as calm as he could muster it, 'I need to know that I have your attention.'_

_He'd expected a reply along the lines of, "but you always have my attention, Carlos," because that was just the way Cecil spoke. That wasn't, however, the response Carlos got. 'Why?' Cecil asked glumly. 'We both know you're breaking up with me. I just don't know why you couldn't do it on the phone like everybody else.'_

_Carlos felt the lower part of his jaw nearly disconnect from the upper half in shock. 'What? Cecil – no, why would you think I'm –' he huffed out a breath of air. 'Listen, Cecil, no. I'm not breaking up with you. Why would you even think that?' he asked, replaying the text he'd sent, requesting Cecil's presence, in his mind._

_'Is there any other reason to say "Cecil, we need to talk"?'_

_Carlos shook his head. 'No – I mean, yes, there are other reasons to say that, I just – why would I be breaking up with you?' Carlos honestly couldn't think of any issues they'd been having – well, except for the cat currently taking up residence in Cecil's room, which was only an issue because Carlos was allergic to cats and Cecil kept denying the cat's existence._

_'I don't!' Cecil snapped, standing up from the bed. 'Because I'm an embarrassment? Because you're ashamed of me? Because they only reason you went out with me in the first place was because I forced you to? Because I'm ugly?' Cecil had started to pace the floor, gesticulating wildly with both arms._

_Carlos didn't want him to continue, but Cecil kept babbling on, citing reasons that Carlos knew were founded in some of his own dumber moments and made him feel guilty._

_'Cecil, stop,' Carlos commanded. Cecil did stop his pacing and his speaking, and started instead to stare right at Carlos. Cecil knew Carlos felt discomforted by direct eye contact, and was using his lack of social fear to his advantage. Still, Carlos was determined not to back down. 'I have no intention of breaking up with you. Frankly, I had no idea you felt so insecure about our relationship. I wanted to talk to you because, well,' Carlos swallowed, and blinked, and reminded himself not to look down or away. 'Because I'm feeling pretty insecure too.' They stared at each other for a full minute, Cecil still standing on defence with his fists clenched at his sides. Carlos let his face relax and features soften, to show Cecil he really didn't mean any harm. 'Please, Cecil,' he said quietly, 'Sit down.'_

_Cecil sat on Carlos's neatly made bed, hands folded in his lap and eyes still trained on Carlos. Carlos sat down next to him, letting one knee balance him on the squishy mattress. 'I'm not ashamed of you, Cecil, and you're not embarrassing, though I understand where you get that idea. I'm just –' He squirmed, trying to find equal footing and the right words. 'I'm not used to being out yet. Not in an environment that's… safe. And I wouldn't want any harm to come to you, especially not because of me. I know you've always been confident and proud of who you are, Cecil, and that's wonderful. But I haven't always been.' Carlos took a breath, let it out. 'Do you understand?'_

_Cecil nodded, but his eyes weren't fixed on Carlos anymore. Instead they were contemplating the floor, probably finding dragons outlined on the cold tile. _

_'As for the second point, you're entirely wrong.' Cecil looked up in confusion. 'You didn't force me to go out with you,' Carlos clarified. 'You were perfectly respectful when I told you, last year, that I just wanted to be friends. And after everything that happened, everything that almost happened…' Carlos shook his head, not sure how to bridge the gap between what he was saying, and what he meant to say. 'Cecil, I made the first move. I have always made the first move, and you need to give yourself more credit for that.'_

_'What -?'_

_'Cecil,' Carlos took both of Cecil's hands in his. 'Cecil, I asked you to meet me out back of Arby's. I put my hand on your knee before you put your head on my shoulder. I called you and asked you out, and despite all the stupid shit that I said on our first date – I kissed you good night.'_

_Cecil was shivering, and still refusing to meet Carlos's eyes. 'Carlos,' he moaned._

_But Carlos had so few strokes of brilliance when it came to words, let alone words that came out right at all. He might not be the most romantic scientist in the world, but he had to get his feelings out there before he lost his nerve. 'And I certainly don't understand why you think you're ugly. Do you not see the way everybody looks at you? Men, women, students, teachers – Cecil, you are beautiful. I didn't even think you were being serious when you first started coming on to me, because I couldn't figure out why you'd be interested in me when you could have anybody you wanted. I'm not special, Cecil. I'm not beautiful or talented, and I'm definitely not perfect._

_'And that's why… why I wanted to talk to you. I appreciate that you want to make others feel better about themselves. That's great, Cecil. But I need you to see me the way I am. I couldn't stand to disappoint you, Cecil, but I'm not perfect. And I need to know that you realize this. And I need to know if you want to be with me, and not just the version of me you've created.'_

_'Carlos –' Cecil coughed, or maybe laughed. 'Carlos, I know you're not perfect. Nobody's perfect. Perfection is impossible. Besides which, you have terrible taste in music, chew too loudly, are sometimes insensitive, have no idea how to appropriately interact with other people, spend way too much time at the lab, and you are the worst cook to ever turn on a stove.'_

_'I am not that bad!' Carlos shouted._

_'Yes, Carlos,' Cecil laughed. 'You really, really are.' Carlos smiled and kissed Cecil on the forehead, letting his lips rest against Cecil's soft skin until their temperatures matched._

_'Well,' Carlos huffed. 'Now that's settled –'_

_'Actually,' Cecil muttered, 'I do have one more question.'_

_'Yes?'_

_There was a pregnant pause, and Carlos could all but see the gears working in Cecil's head, trying to find the right way to ask what was on his mind before giving up and simply blurting out, 'Why haven't we had sex yet?'_

* * *

'He calls you Carlos the Scientist, you know,' Josie the desk clerk said. 'Like that's your full name.'

'So I've heard', Carlos said, fiddling with his phone and waiting for Steve to head back into his office.

'He also seems quite infatuated with you. Are the two of you, you know, together?' she asked.

'Yes ma'am,' Carlos responded. When he heard Steve's office door click shut, he turned to face her properly. 'When I was in Cecil's room, he glared at Dr Carlsberg and called him a "huge jerk." Have there been any altercations, anything like that?'

Josie tapped her chin thoughtfully. 'I haven't really noticed anything out of the ordinary, but a lot of patients fear Dr Carlsberg. I think it has to do with the medication they receive, but I could be wrong.'

Carlos nodded. 'Well, could you – no, I don't suppose you could, unethical –'

'I'll let you know if I hear anything, or see anything,' Josie promised.

Carlos blinked, and wondered if he was reading the conspiratorial wink in Josie's eye. Not that it really mattered, but he thanked her anyway with an uncertain wink of his own, and was on his way.


	4. Chapter 4

Carlos was once again refraining from visiting Cecil, but this time he had valid (or rather, what he considered valid) reasons to do so. It didn't sound like anyone at hospital had really paid much attention to the things Cecil was saying to his imaginary audience, but Carlos knew for a fact that clips from his old life were still implanted in Cecil's brain. And if Cecil thought Carlos was a scientist conducting studies on Cecil's imaginary audience, then by God, that was what Carlos was doing. But it also meant that Carlos couldn't visit Cecil for at least a week. Any surprise visits from him could skew the data.

There were so many things that could go wrong within the span of this week, and Carlos was trying desperately not to think of them. But what if Cecil forgot who he was, and Carlos had to introduce himself again? He didn't think he could handle that, and the frustration alone might make the experience worse than the last time. There was also a very real possibility that Carlos would simply lose his nerve and not visit at all. It had taken so much energy to force himself into the car with the knowledge of where he was going, and then into the hospital with the knowledge of what he would be seeing, but the idea that this was going to be an everyday occurrence lessened the blow a bit. It was a schedule, a routine. Carlos was used to those, knew how to work with them.

'It's just another experiment,' Carlos told the sink. He'd been standing in the bathroom – his and Cecil's bathroom – for the past twenty minutes, trying to convince himself that he could, in fact, get up and go to work today. It was a conversation with himself he'd been having since the incident happened, but the particular flavour was recent. It had been three days of reminding himself that at the end of the week, he would go back to the hospital, no matter what he heard or saw.

He started to wash his face, but startled when he hit the stubble on his cheeks. He looked at himself in the mirror – how long had it been since he shaved? Since he properly bathed or combed his hair? He picked up a razor from a cup they were using as a toothbrush holder on the sink, and ran his fingers along the lines of the blades. Two of his fingers, middle and pointer, started to bleed, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't taste the coffee he drank that morning either, nor did he feel it scalding the back of his throat. The chill of the night as September turned to October didn't register with him either, and when he looked more closely at his face he recognized that the tops of his cheeks, nose, and forehead were all sunburned. But he couldn't remember feeling the sun.

He knew that the numbness he was feeling would probably, by his friends and family, be attributed to depression. "Depression" wasn't a very satisfying answer though, not to Carlos. He knew that in his case it wasn't the chemical imbalance, but situational, and it didn't answer why nothing felt real to him anymore.

The telephone rang out, bright and clear. It was the first time in a long time that Carlos heard something so loudly, and the shock of it cause his reflexes to spasm, and he dropped the razor into the sink. He didn't know who would be on the other line, but either it was bad news or spam. There wasn't any other sort of call.

He only barely recognized the voice on the other hand as it called out to him, distressed but not crying. 'Carlos,' the voice was feminine. Panicked, but sturdy. 'Carlos, you need to come down to the hospital. As soon as you can,' the voice told him before the phone call abruptly ended, and the dial tone hissed in Carlos's ear.

Carlos didn't bother getting fully dressed for the day, just throwing on some sweatpants and a shirt before remembering to run cold water over his fingers and dashing out the door. He was certain that he broke many road laws, but the police must have had better things to do than ticket frantic boyfriends as Carlos didn't see a single officer.

The hospital itself seemed fine on the outside, but looks always seemed to lie, in Carlos's experience. He slammed the door to his car without removing the keys from the ignition, speeding off in the direction of the front door. And the moment he entered the hospital, he could hear what the voice on the other end of the line meant.

Several voices were shouting all at once. Some of the voices were talking to one another, giving out orders and asking for help. One voice was yelling in incoherent Russian. The other voice was Cecil's, and it was just shrieking.

Carlos made for the door, and nearly collided with Steve Carlsberg. 'What's going on?' he demanded.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said.

Carlos looked over his shoulder as another loud wail echoed down the hall, accompanied by what he was certain were Russian swear words. He made to push past Steve, but Steve grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him back.

'Where do you think you're going?' he demanded.

'To go see my boyfriend,' Carlos snapped.

'In case you haven't guessed already, Cecil has become a little hysteric this morning.'

'Yeah, actually, I did notice that,' Carlos snarled. 'What have you done to him? Why's he so upset?'

'What makes you think I did something to him?' Steve asked. His manner was threatening, his voice too calm and too quiet. Carlos made himself stand still though his body tried to shudder. The intimidation in Steve's eyes made him want to back down, to submit; but there were moments in life, he recognized, where you had to do the thing you feared the most. There was just no other way to live.'

'Because he was fine when I talked to him this weekend. And because I received a call that was definitely not from you, telling me I should come down here.'

Carlos bit his tongue the minute the words left his mouth, because he understood now who had called him. The last thing he needed to do was repay her favour by getting Josie fired.

Steve had opened his mouth, clearly about to demand the name and whereabouts of the mysterious caller, when Cecil broke through his barricade and launched himself onto Carlos. 'Carlos,' Cecil cried. 'Oh Carlos, they took your experiment! That jerk Steve Carlsberg took your experiment!'

Carlos looked up at Steve, glaring, hoping to see that the man would have the decency to at least look sheepish. But he didn't. He looked the same as he always did – serious and mean. 'You didn't tell me you were planting a recording device in Cecil's room,' Steve explained coolly. 'Of course we have to check it out, make sure there's nothing that he could use to hurt himself or someone else. I'm sure you understand,' he said. There was something about Steve that Carlos didn't and couldn't trust. Like there was something Steve was trying to hide and prevent Carlos from learning by taking the black box away from Cecil.

Carlos shook his head at himself. Where's all this conspiracy nonsense coming from? Conspiracy theories are Cecil's thing, not mine. Besides, Steve is Cecil's friend, and as a doctor at this facility he is in charge of ensuring the protection not only of Cecil, but of the other patients as well.

Carlos rubbed Cecil's back soothingly as Cecil cried and continued to mumble things about 'that jerk, Steve Carlsberg' and 'the racist asshole who calls himself the Apache Tracker.' Carlos let his arms go limp, and he looked back up at Steve. 'Yes, I understand. I'm sorry for over-reacting.'

Steve shrugged. 'It's understandable. But I'm afraid Cecil will have to take a few days to calm down. You can come back over the weekend, if you like.'

Carlos looked back down to the man in his arms, gently prying Cecil's arms from around him. 'Did you hear that, Cecil?' Cecil nodded. 'I have to go now, but I'll be back over the weekend. We'll – we'll get coffee or something,' Carlos promised. He widened his eyes at Steve, not sure if leaving the hospital was something Cecil was even allowed to do. Steve looked uncomfortable with the idea, but nodded anyway.

'Coffee,' Cecil repeated. 'So we have – we have a date!' Cecil exclaimed. 'Oh, I have to tell my listeners about this.' Cecil ran back down the hall without further prompting, and Carlos heard his door slam as Cecil rushed inside.

Carlos had intended to exchange one last worried look with Steve, maybe even ask if this was the first time Cecil had lost it like that or if there was some sort of trigger that set him off, but Steve seemed distant and preoccupied. 'I'll see you on Saturday,' Steve said, and Carlos had never felt so small or dismissed in his life.

* * *

_Carlos's family did, in fact, adore Cecil, and that was the biggest relief Carlos could have ever asked for. His mother was upset when he came out – not because she considered homosexuality a sin, but because he would never be able to marry or have children of his own (she didn't seem to understand the concept of civil partnerships or surrogate mothers). Her biggest issue, however, was trying to find him a partner._

_'I have a hard enough time trying to find good man for your sisters! How am I supposed to find one for you as well?' she chided lovingly._

_Carlos shook his head. 'Really, mom, don't worry about it. I am perfectly capable of finding a boyfriend on my own, thanks,' he said, but this answer didn't pacify his mother._

_She shook her head. 'Carlos, no, but you are too trusting. You're only going to find men who are going to break your heart. Let me if any of my church friends can help me out…'_

_She continued to mutter to herself about the various sons she'd met, ticking off one she knew were unavailable ('Although really, Martin can do so much better than Ana') or weren't good enough for Carlos. And Carlos sat at the kitchen table, eating his sandwich, and ignoring his mother the best he could._

_His mother never ceased in trying to find him a partner, and on occasion he would go out with them just to humour his mother. He'd also found that she was right in one respect: he only seemed to attract men who wanted to experiment or have fun, but not to enter into a serious relationship. Even one of the men his mother set him up with turned out to be that way. He'd tried to keep it from his mother, but mothers are nothing if not masters in guilt-tripping. She was absolutely furious, and the fight between her and the mother of Anthony, the other man, got so bad that both families had to switch churches. _

_Carlos decided that he was finished with dating, and that it was time for him to focus on his academic career. He never saw Cecil coming._

_When he finally got around to telling his family about Cecil (whose very existence he'd kept a secret for fear that they'd pressure him into accepting Cecil's advances before he was ready), they wanted to meet him immediately. _

_'I thought you were concentrating on science?' his mother asked._

_'I still am! It's just, you know…Cecil sort of…crept up,' he lied._

_And his mother didn't buy it. 'How long have you two known each other?' _

_'Well – we met a couple days after I transferred, so that's…a little over a year – But we just started dating! …four months ago.' _

_'Carlos,' his mother was breathing heavily, and he began to understand where his anxiety came from. 'Carlos, did he…force you to go out with him?'_

_'God! Mom, no! I mean, he flirted with me a lot and I sort of…didn't get it. The only reason I didn't go out with him sooner is because I wanted to make sure things weren't going to be like they were last time.'_

_Cecil, who had been sitting next to Carlos on the couch through the whole phone conversation, tilted his head in confusion and mouthed, 'last time?'_

_Carlos held up a finger to indicate he'd explain in a moment. 'Yes, mom, I'll bring him 'round for Christmas. Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay. Love you too. Bye.' Cecil had turned in to face him fully, and Carlos crossed his legs on the small in uncomfortable couch. He rubbed at his temples. 'I've just had a really bad string of partners in the past. None of them lasted for very long, nor could any of them really be classified as relationships. They just wanted – uhm, you know, one thing.' He sighed._

_'Oh,' Cecil said lightly. 'That's why we haven't had sex yet. Okay,' he shrugged._

_'You're okay with that?' Carlos asked lamely._

_'Hey,' Cecil said. 'For all I knew, you were asexual. And that's cool too. Truth be told, I haven't really had a plethora of great relationships either, but I think they all broke up with me because I'm weird,' he paused. 'Except for Earl. That was the other way around._

_'But Carlos, why didn't you just tell me?'_

_'Because I thought you'd be offended,' and it was true, or at least partially true. He was also afraid of the overwhelming anxiety that would well up when confronting the subject. _

_Cecil shook his head. 'We hardly even knew each other when I first tried asking you out. I mean, for all I knew, you were a five-headed, Scottish dragon with intents on running for mayor or something.'_

_Carlos laughed, and then groaned again. 'Oh god, I didn't even ask you – would your family be okay with you coming home with me for Christmas?'_

_Cecil smiled warmly. 'I haven't really got a family, so I'm sure they'll be thrilled.'_

_Carlos blinked. 'What? So who are you talking about when you say, "the folks back home"?'_

_'Well, my mother died a few years before I graduated. I don't know a lot about my father, except that I have his teeth. So really, the town itself has been like my family.'_

_Carlos blinked and shook his head slowly. 'I can't believe this is the first time I'm asking you this, but where are you from?'_

_Cecil smiled in the way he normally did when Carlos said something fantastic. 'There are so many more interesting questions to ask and conversations to have that asking me where I'm from, or where you're from, has just never really been all that important or necessary. And I'm from here. From Night Vale. I've lived here my whole life.'_

_Carlos couldn't withhold the affection in his heart anymore, and he kissed Cecil. 'You're amazing,' he said._

_And he tried to keep this in mind on the drive up to his family. There was no telling how his family would react to Cecil, and Carlos wasn't the only one panicking. He'd had to stop the car in the middle of the road twice (so Cecil could vomit) and at a fast food restaurant once (so he could). They wound up sitting on the hood of Carlos's car in an Arby's parking lot about five minutes away from their destination, drinking their sodas and hoping the carbonation would help to settle their stomachs._

_'Whatever you do,' Carlos warned, unable to think of any other advice, 'Don't mention FIFA. Our teams lost terribly last year.'_

_Cecil trained his eyes up toward his hairline, and focused them back on Carlos. 'What's FIFA?' he asked. _

_But when they actually reached the family home, nobody asked Cecil about football (soccer), politics, or religion – the three big subjects Cecil had always been taught were rude dinner topics unless trying to intimidate someone's date. Cecil handled even the more embarrassing questions (like if he had any STDs and how many sexual partners he'd had) with a finesse Carlos had come to expect with his on-air personality. He spent so much time waiting, with baited breath, for something to go wrong that he'd hardly spoke a word the entire time they were there._

_When it was time to go home, Cecil received hugs and kisses from all of Carlos's family – and really, we do mean all. Even second cousins and great-aunts. Carlos was dazed at just how well everything had gone, and nearly missed his mother calling him inside the house to come pick up some leftovers to take back to campus with them._

_'He's a sweetheart,' she said, handing him a tin-foil package of lord knows what, 'take care not to lose him, Carlos, or get lost from him. He adores you,' she added, and kissed him on the cheek before sending him back to school._

* * *

Carlos hadn't told his family exactly what had happened to Cecil, only that he was "sick," and so they'd sent a care package over. One of the many (admittedly confusing – because what was this, even? a hair dryer?) items was a small bag with Guatemalan worry dolls. Carlos put them in his pocket, because he wasn't sure what else of the package would be allowed inside the hospital.

Cecil was waiting for him in the lobby, one of the nurses standing by his chair. The nurse smiled pleasantly at Carlos as he came near, and extended his hand. 'I'm Angel,' he introduced. 'Please, no David Boreanaz jokes. Josie –' he looked at Cecil, and then who didn't seem to be paying attention, and then back at Carlos, 'You know, Old Woman Josie, she's my grandma. She asked me to keep an eye on Cecil. She was transferred a couple days ago. Frankly, I'm glad. The hospital she's at now has less stairs. I'm always afraid she's gonna trip on something and break her hip. Again.' He sighed. 'You two have' he checked his watch 'two hours. It's recommended you don't try to skip state or anything, the paperwork can get messy. I'll be waiting out here for you at two-forty. Have a nice lunch!' he smiled again.

Carlos was confused. 'Wait, aren't you supposed to come with us, or something?'

Angel shrugged. 'Honestly, surveillance isn't really my style. We know you're not the guy that did the thing to him, so as long as he doesn't come back with any black eyes or anything, I think we're good.'

Cecil had stood up and was leaning against Carlos. Carlos really wanted to ask Cecil what in the hell he was wearing or where he'd gotten such bizarre clothing, but he also wanted to get out of the hospital before Angel changed his mind (or someone changed it for him).

Once they were in the car, Cecil was babbling away, as if no time had passed, as if nothing had changed, as if last Wednesday hadn't started with Cecil screaming his head off and fighting with a guy speaking in Russian.

Carlos drove them to a small, out of the way restaurant called Gino's Italian Dining Experience. He asked specifically for an out of the way table, as far from other people as they could get. The waiter gave Carlos a strange look, and then an understanding look. Carlos didn't bother trying to correct his assumptions. If it meant he and Cecil could talk interrupted, it was worth taking advantage of.

Carlos felt himself shaking again, and found with some surprise that he almost missed the hospital surroundings. He supposed that it was because the hospital kept him grounded, reminded him of what the reality of the situation was. Here, there was so much possibility for him to forget what had happened, what Cecil was going through. Maybe he would even start to believe Cecil's stories himself. _And maybe_, he thought, _that would be better_.

He shook his head and looked to Cecil, who was contemplating the menu with an intense stare. 'I sure hope none of this is made with wheat or wheat by-products,' he said seriously. Carlos didn't answer.

'Cecil, we need to talk about something,' Carlos started.

Cecil sat up straight, hands folded politely on the table, grin wide. 'Oh, something science-y? Is the world in danger again?'

_My world is_. 'Not exactly, Cecil. Do you remember what happened, about a month ago?'

Cecil let his mouth fall open a bit and blinked through the haze. 'Well – you mean, when you came into town?'

'Just before that, Cecil.' The waiter brought out their water, and gave them a look that clearly questioned why there weren't taking advantage of the secluded area. The waiter raised his eyebrows, and Carlos glared at him, waving his hand as indication that the man should leave them alone.

'Well,' Cecil said, 'I remember… I remember –' Cecil started to tremble, and he closed his eyes.

'It's okay, Cecil,' Carlos said softly. 'Just – just breathe, okay? Drink some water,' he suggested, but Cecil had his hands fisted in his hair and wouldn't look up at him.

'I remember lying on the bed, and not being able to move,' he stuttered. 'And before that, I remember – remember the movie. The movie and the spoons and the shouting.'

Carlos thought he might be going into cardiac arrest. He honestly hadn't thought Cecil would remember, but then Cecil was nothing if not tenacious. And if Carlos asked something of him, Cecil would go to the end of the Earth to fulfil his request. But now, Carlos wished he wouldn't. He wasn't sure which was worse – watching Cecil break down again, or watching him, already broken, living in a world that didn't exist.

_He isn't broken_, Carlos insisted to no one. _He isn't broken_. And despite the way his pulse was beating in his throat, making it impossible for Carlos to swallow and all alarm bells telling him to stop and not to push further, Carlos insisted. 'I remember. You were at the movies with Dana, and then -?'

Cecil had started to cry, and he'd lost track of reality again. But this time wasn't like the others. He wasn't living in his horror show town with Old Woman Josie and the Apache Tracker. Because it was a reality, this reality, but displaced and out of time. Carlos realized with horror that he was re-living what happened to him the night of the attack. No, not just that – he was reliving the attack itself.

'No,' Cecil choked out, and started to cough. 'No, please. Don't do this –' He pushed away from the table, water splashing out of their glasses with the impact. 'Don't touch me!' he shouted. 'Get away from me –' He was shivering now, backed into a corner.

'Cecil!' Carlos yelled as he followed. He foolishly extended one hand to touch Cecil's arm, hoping that some sort of real-world contact would bring him out of his head. But Cecil screeched again, eyes glazed over. 'Don't touch me! Please, god, no – Let go of me!'

The manager came out of the back at the sound of raised voices. He looked from Cecil to Carlos, outraged. 'What the hell did you do to him?' the man snapped. Carlos opened his mouth to defend himself. 'Shut up! Sit down – Brad!' he shouted, and their waiter popped his head outside.

'Dear lord!' he yelped. Cecil had curled up underneath some bushes, lying in the foetal position and still screaming for an unseen attacker to stop touching him, asking to let go, and begging him for mercy.

'Call the police,' the manager snapped. 'I don't know what the Hell is going on here, but this is the last time we let people sit out back unsupervised.' Brad nodded but stopped short halfway to the door, and turned around. 'What the hell is it now, Brad?'

'Did you hear what he just said, boss?' The manager shook his head, and Carlos crept closer to his lover.

'Get away from him' the manager snapped, but Brad had come back out fully, placing an arm between his boss and Carlos.

'No, no. Listen to what he's saying.'

They all stopped talking, but couldn't hear a thing. Then Carlos leaned closer to his crying mess, and heard him whimper, 'God, no. What did I do to – no, stop. Steve, don't. Please –'

Carlos closed his eyes, recognizing now what the alarm bells in his head had been saying, and it wasn't don't push the issue or you don't want to know. No. They were saying you know what happened, you saw this coming.

The manager looked up at Carlos, and back to the waiter. 'You didn't happen to catch that guy's name, did you?' he asked, indicating Cecil.

Brad nodded. 'Cecil. He's a local.'

The manager nodded. 'And his boyfriend over there. His name isn't Steve, is it?'

Brad shook his head. 'No, sir. It's Carlos.'

The manager ran a hand through his hair. 'Well, fuck,' he said.

And Carlos couldn't agree more.


	5. Chapter 5

_Carlos was going to propose. He'd been wanting to for a while, and the fact that the laws were changing every year and their state was slowly making progress just made his urge all the more…urgent. All he needed to do was figure out how._

_That's what he'd been doing the night Cecil was at the movies with Dana. With the couple hours of solitude he had, he could break out the wipe board and draw it all out like scientific conjecture. Had it been any other life-altering suggestion, Carlos might have just put it on a Power Point and e-mailed it to Cecil while he was at work so he could face the possibility of rejection without an audience. But marriage was supposed to be romantic. Not because societal laws dictated as such; Heaven knows what the rate of divorce indicates about the permanence of legal attachment. Marriage was still defined, to Carlos and to Cecil both, as the ultimate form of commitment (well, after giving birth, but that was hardly the point here). Carlos couldn't say for sure he knew how Cecil felt, but he had absolutely no intention of forming a romantic attachment to anybody else. Nobody even seemed interesting anymore, they all just paled in comparison to Cecil._

_Carlos drew up draft after draft, hosting every worst case scenario in his mind. After three hours of contemplation, it occurred to him that Cecil would probably be home soon. The movie wasn't all that long, but Cecil and Dana were going out for a few drinks before the start of the movie, and afterward – well, Cecil could talk all night unless you let him know what time it was. He was a grown man though, and Carlos didn't need to worry about him (to be read: Cecil didn't want Carlos to worry, and Carlos pretended he didn't for Cecil's benefit, and Cecil pretended to believe that he didn't for Carlos's benefit). He wiped down the board and folded up the easel, resigning to bed with the thought, maybe I'll just blurt it out over dinner or something._

_As he was pulling the sheets back to get under the covers, Carlos heard the front door slam shut. He went out to the living room to greet Cecil, and saw that the man's eyes were wide and raw. He tried not to panic, and failed. 'What's wrong, Cecil? Did something happen to you?'_

_Cecil looked up at Carlos, but his eyes didn't really meet the other man's; rather, he appeared to be looking over his shoulder, dazed, like he was seeing some sort of mirage. A blinking light on a mountain. 'Huh?' Cecil asked. 'Oh. Yeah, no, I'm – I'm fine. I just – allergies. You know,' he said, pretending to yawn._

_Carlos couldn't explain why Cecil's loss of words didn't strike him as odd at the time. Upon reflection, it sounded horribly out of character. He supposed he was occupied with his own thoughts too much to realize, or maybe he'd chalked it to the late hour. Either way, he took Cecil's hand and led him to their bedroom. It didn't look as though Cecil was awake enough to make it there on his own._

_Cecil was always affectionate, rubbing Carlos's shoulders as he ruminated over science reports and peppering his shoulder with light kisses as he cooked. But Cecil had always just done these things, not asking for permission or waiting for a request. And he hadn't just been that way with Carlos – Carlos saw him lean against friends who were taller and drape an arm around those who were shorter. He hugged his American friends upon seeing them for the first time in a while, and European friends were greeted with a kiss on each cheek (which Carlos supposed was the custom, but still felt rather personal to him). After they crawled into bed, though, Cecil snuggled closer to Carlos and whispered, 'hold me.'_

_Cecil was normally the one who did the holding. Perhaps that was another sign, another flag that Carlos should have paid attention to. But Cecil liked to experiment. Asking to be held didn't necessarily mean he felt insecure; maybe he was just cold._

_Carlos fell asleep with Cecil's cold breath on his neck, and his last thought before drifting off was a question of why his breath was so cold. He didn't feel Cecil clinging to the back of his night shirt as if his life depended on it. When Carlos woke up that morning, the tear stains on his shirt were too dry to see or feel._

* * *

Before their "date" had started, before Carlos even left the house, he managed to wrangle another recording device from Vanessa and hide it in his shirt pocket. He'd only gotten the small machine from her after promising to tell her the whole story, once all drama was over and the consequences were laid out.

('Better be a good story, too,' Vanessa had grumbled as Carlos dashed out, a million apologies to confused co-workers on his lips.)

When the cops came to take note of the situation and an ambulance finally arrived for Cecil, the cops insisted that Carlos come with them for further questioning. On the way back to the station, Carlos played the recording for them. It was a tad garbled from being jostled in his pocket, but clear enough to understand what Cecil was whispering near the end.

'It's Steve Carlsberg,' Carlos insisted to the police. This was the fourth or fifth time he'd insisted that they take note of what he'd been saying – of what Cecil had been repeating. 'He said it himself, officer. The man who – who raped him. It was Steve Carlsberg.'

The officer never changed the bored, doubtful expression which graced his face. 'And you still have no evidence that Dr Carlsberg did anything of the sort.' Carlos opened his mouth to argue – he'd been doing that a lot lately, he found – but the officer held up his hand to cut him off. 'I know what your boyfriend said, but your boyfriend's also off his rocker and Dr Carlsberg is his current caretaker. It's possible he's frustrated with the care he's been given and the outside world confuses him. Until you've got some more substantial proof, we're not going to hold his word as evidence.'

Carlos wasn't sure what part of the officer's statement he felt most offended by. 'You're not taking the word of a victim seriously because of his victimization?' Carlos snapped. 'How stupid are you?'

The officer set his jaw into a perfect line. 'Look, buddy, we understand that you're upset –'

'No you don't!' Carlos shouted. 'You really, really don't –'

'And what would you have us do? Potentially ruin this man's career on the word of fruitcake who thinks he's some sort of radio host?'

'He is a radio host,' a voice behind them spoke up. Dana stood behind Carlos, calmer and saner than he could ever have been in this moment. 'He works for Night Vale Community Radio, and has done for the past three years. If you don't believe me, feel free to contact the station. He works one of the night slots.'

The officer cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. 'Why should we believe you?'

'Because I'm an intern working under Cecil. Well, I was until he was raped by Steve Carlsberg and suffered a bit of a breakdown. Telly Barber is currently working in his place.' Dana and the officer locked eyes for seconds that felt like minutes. The heat and anger that passed between the two was so intense that even Carlos didn't blink as he watched.

'Get all that checked out,' the officer barked at his underling, before turning back to Carlos. 'And if you want us to take this seriously,' he said, nodding to the small recording device on the counter, we're gonna need more confirmation. Not from you, though. If you can get a licensed therapist to release his or her notes or get another recording – preferably one Cecil has given his consent for – then we'll consider your proclamation. Until then –' the officer tossed the recorder back to Carlos, 'No dice.'

* * *

Dana first met Cecil when she was trying to find her way out of the dog park. Why Night Vale needed such a vast recreational area when no one seemed to own a dog or even walk anywhere was anybody's guess. Dana thought she'd visit the place, since it was such a pretty day and she could frankly use the exercise. Working in radio wasn't exactly the most aerobically inclined set of jobs.

When she managed to wind her way back to the middle of the park once again, she let out a frustrated cry. 'Why do all the damn entrances and exits look the same?'

'Because they're trying to keep you from ever leaving,' a voice behind her joked. She jumped around and noticed, for the first time, that a man had been sitting on one of the benches the whole time.

Dana huffed. 'Well why didn't you tell me that sooner? How long have you been watching me get lost, anyway?'

The man put his hands up. 'Hey now, I didn't want to assume anything. Until you said something, I thought maybe this was just your exercise routine.'

'It would be,' Dana scowled, 'if I could ever find a way to end it.'

The man set the book he'd been reading down in his lap, marking one of the pages before standing up to properly greet her. 'The reason they all look the same is because the City Council thought symmetry was more conducive to peaceful thought and reflection.'

'So is not getting lost,' Dana countered.

The man laughed. 'I take it you're not from around here.'

'What was your first clue?'

'The fact that you'd come in here at all. Nobody comes in the dog park,' he lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'It's against the law.'

Dana blinked several times in a row, trying to determine if the man was joking with her or not.

'Come on, the exit's this way –' he indicated an exit to her right, one she was sure she'd taken before. But then, she'd gotten so turned around that it was possible she'd only ever gone in one direction.

'How do you know this place so well, then if it's illegal?'

The man shook his head. 'What can I say? I'm a daredevil. It's one of the many traits of working in radio,' he joked.

'You work in radio?' Dana asked. She knew what she'd heard, but a little confirmation went a long way.

'Yep. Night Vale Community Radio, home to the strangest collection of music one could ever wish for.'

'Your name wouldn't happen to be Cecil, would it?' Dana asked. When the man – Cecil – nodded, she groaned. 'Oh, shit,' she said, and slapped her mouth as if to shove the swear word back where it came from. 'You're my boss.'

* * *

Dana didn't particularly enjoy lying, as she was always afraid she'd be caught. The consequences for lying – to the school, to her parents, to the government – were so severe that the very act caused her to break out in hives on the back of her neck. Cecil was her boss and her friend, so of all the people to lie to, well, he was most certainly not on the top of the list. She didn't really want to "play along," as Carlos had put it, but she didn't really have a lot of options. They needed more concise proof, and it needed to come from somebody else.

When Dana introduced herself to the desk clerk, she was shocked to find the woman had already heard of her. When she asked how it was even possible, the woman – named Erika – rolled her eyes. 'Josie – the woman who worked here ahead of me – she left all these really long and bizarre instructions about all of the inmates –'

'Patients,' Dana corrected.

Erika rolled her eyes. 'Okay, yeah, whatever. This Cecil guy you're visiting, one of his latest shticks has been that you're an intern, and you like, doubled or something in a sandstorm and you may or may not be evil.' Dana blinked, unsure how to interpret the information given to her. The woman shrugged, a wave of hostility rolling off her shoulders. 'Look, I'm just tryin'a warn you is all. In case he, like, tries to gank you or something.'

Dana nodded and took the introductory sticker, avoiding Erika's eyes. The dark grey of them unsettled her. It reminded her of the colour of the marble used for tombstones and statues in graveyards. An image flashed into her head of a statue Angel, hiding its face in misery, and reminded herself to stop watching any and all science fiction related content after 8:30.

The plastic chairs of the waiting room reminded her of the Emergency Room. Startling life-or-death situations flooded her mind as strange acoustic music played over the loudspeaker.

After five minutes of her isolated introspection, her mind began to question what it meant to be alive. Was the quantity of life more important than its quality? Was Cecil even still alive, or had his personality – the part who made him who he was – died on the day his corporeal self tried to? Dana felt a humming just underneath her skin, the static ringing like silence before the fire alarm went off. She had nearly decided to leave the hospital, to tell Carlos it was a lost cause, when she heard her name pronounced with razor-sharp precision behind her.

She didn't rise from the plastic blue chair immediately, instead studying the structure of the man who had called her name. She couldn't remember ever seeing a picture of Steve Carlsberg, or even having Carlos describe him to her, but she knew who he was the minute he stepped out from behind his office door. He didn't look remarkable. There was nothing about him that spoke of strength, or intelligence, or power. He was a man just like any other, and he made the hair at the nape of her neck stand on end.

She felt it was happening in slow motion, her walking toward him. She wanted her body to wake up and be more alert, but she couldn't force her sentience back into her body. She'd heard of these things before, where you experienced or remembered certain life events from the third person. It was a phenomenon they'd discussed in her general psychology class, and the idea to her had always been unnerving. Dana didn't like for things to be outside of her control. She was obscenely human in that way.

She expected it all to sound muffled – his words, as they left his mouth to make their way to her ears. But it came out with perfect clarity, far too loud and familiar for Dana to feel comfortable. 'Dana the intern, what a pleasure to meet you,' he said. Dana tried to stay objective about the situation, but couldn't help the way her right hand felt trapped in his fingers, or the anger that started rising lowly from the pit of her stomach. For a moment, she feared she would vomit, but managed to wrangle the bile back down her throat.

'Likewise,' she lied. 'I've heard so much about you.' It's unfair that someone who detests lying so much should be so good at it, she thought. How do I separate myself now from people like him? 'How has Cecil been doing?' she asked through the noise.

Dr Carlsberg sighed, face falling. 'He's confused, right now, between what he thinks is the real world, and what the real world really is.'

'And what is the real world?' she asked. With each slow step in the direction of Cecil's room, Dana noted that she felt stronger, more confident. Bolder – that's the word Cecil had used to denote the changes in her that he saw over the months of her internship. Brasher – that was the word her mother preferred. She remembered learning about people, especially women, being sent to places like this for being too outspoken, and had to swallow a scream.

If Dr Carlsberg felt the internal struggle, he wasn't explicit about it. He only laughed, and clarified: 'He's been sitting in his room a lot, mumbling about ghosts and murders. It's been a bit back-and-forth this week. I'm guessing his lunch date with Carlos didn't go over so well?'

It took Dana a solid minute to realize this wasn't a rhetorical question. She panicked. She and Carlos had gone over the various questions that could be lobbed at her at any given moment – by orderlies, by Steve, by Cecil – but this wasn't one of them. 'I think the experience was a little overwhelming for Cecil. You know,' she said conversationally, 'Agoraphobia.'

Steve nodded gravely, and stopped outside of the small room Cecil now called home. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear mumbling from inside. Incoherent words all jumbled together, like he was speaking a different language.

Her shadowed invaded the room, and the rumbling stopped. Cecil approached the door with timidity, frown tugging at the sleep-deprived wrinkles on his face. 'Oh, I'd hoped you were Carlos,' he blinked, and contemplated his shoelaces. 'He won't return my calls…'

Dana took the quiet opportunity without Steve's eye contact to get the layout of the room, to memorize the exits and hiding places. It was something, a philosophy, a rule, that she and Cecil had in common: always be prepared. But look how that turned out, a voice in her head whispered. She went to shoo it away with a hand, covering the movement as putting a piece of hair back into place. The doctor muttered something about government efficiency check-ups, and left Dana and Cecil alone.

'So,' Cecil said in his deep, radio-announcer voice. 'Are you really Dana, or are you her double?'

* * *

'I think we all have a double in life' Cecil announced. His voice was nonchalant, but he was contemplating the tree leaves quite seriously. This is what they did on their lunch break when the weather wasn't too awful – eat sandwiches on the benches of Mission Grove Park and contemplate high-brow philosophy as though any of it mattered.

Although Dana had to admit she wasn't sure if this was philosophy, or lunacy. 'What're you on?' she asked Cecil in good humour.

Cecil smiled at the clouds above and sighed, 'Love.'

Dana blinked at her mentor, wondering how he could be so happy when the world was so awful. She didn't think, either, that it was something Carlos brought to him. His output was just so genuinely Cecil that it was hard for her to imagine him ever having a double.

Finally, she found a suitable answer in a newspaper article she'd read for a science class long ago. 'So, what, has Carlos been talking about cloning in his sleep?' To her surprise, Cecil started to laugh. It wasn't so funny as all that, but they were still shaking by the time they arrived back at the station.

* * *

She'd been interviewed by Cecil before, of course – all internships involved an interview component – but she'd never been scrutinized in quite the way she found herself now.

Cecil's eyes had taken on an odd complexion, like the violet tones in mist before dawn. Some shapes are clear, and others still hazy. It was positively liminal, and she was captivated by its ironic (or perhaps, simply unfortunate) permanence. 'How… how long have we known each other?' Cecil asked. His voice seemed to be coming from different parts of the room. Anywhere, really, but from his own mouth.

Dana tried not to let the discomfort show, although the intense gaze and shotgun/prayer-hands made her feel uneasy. 'About a year,' she answered. It was only a guestimation, but apparently was still so different an answer from what Cecil had been expecting. He shook his head. Not at her, but at himself.

'And how long have Carlos and I known each other?'

Dana couldn't really say for sure, but Carlos had stressed the importance of truthfulness. She wasn't sure how much of his concern was built out of psychological fact, and how much was simply the scientist in him. 'I know that the two of you have been dating for about five years, but were friends before that,' she took a deep breath, revealing a card she'd kept hidden even from Carlos on her way to the hospital. He had his methods and could be micromanaging, but where was the harm in a sin of omission?

Dana handed the card, neatly written in looping calligraphy. 'You had a party,' she said, 'to celebrate your anniversary. It would have been…' she trailed off, not uncertain of the date but second guessing her choice to bring the invitation at all. 'It would have been yesterday,' she said softly.

Cecil's face had warmed to a pleasant blush, reminding Dana of eighth grade boys experiencing their first requited love. Cecil's hand was trembling. At first she thought it was happiness that was the cause, but there was some… hesitation there as well. Like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

'You'll have to excuse me if I don't – If I don't remember things, or quite believe them,' he said. 'I've been… re-educated. So many times. And it hurts to drag my brain through the wall. And frustrating, too. It feels like I'm…' He struggled, eyes still trained on the card in his hands. 'It feels like trying to cut through a chain-link fence with a pair of nail scissors. It doesn't feel real to me, Dana.'

Dana scooted closer to him, so that their foreheads were nearly touching. 'And what about this other Night Vale?' she prompted. 'This place of monsters and conspiracies. Is it real to you?'

Cecil gasped, eyes widening to look at Dana more closely. 'I – I don't –'

'Does it hurt, Cecil?' she asked, grabbing his arm and squeezing.

'No – Dana, please, stop –' Cecil begged.

'No, Cecil,' she said steadily. 'I need you to focus. Your other Night Vale. Does it hurt? When you go there, do you feel pain? Or loss? Do you know fear?'

'No!' Cecil shouted.

'Why not, Cecil?' she pushed.

'I don't know,' he cried.

'Do you know why you run away? Why you created your other Night Vale?'

'Dana, I just –'

'Face it, Cecil,' she breathed. 'Say. If only once, Cecil. Just say it.' He looked perplexed, and tears rained down even though he showed no other symptoms of crying. He looked around the room, and she knew from personal experience – from personal pain and anxiety and heartbreak – that he wanted an exit. 'Tell me, Cecil.'

'Dana, please,' he begged. He looked so pitiful that she almost wanted to give him an out, to let him forget.

But Dana had a heart for tough love. She was built for battle, her mother always said, and it was true. She'd managed to get this far in life. She could afford to push it a little more. 'You were raped, Cecil.'

'No,' he whispered. 'No, I – It can't be. No, no, I wasn't. I wasn't,' he said, breathing erratic. Dana saw sweat beads stand out on his forehead, dripping down to mingle with the tears that pooled under his eyes. 'Dana, I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I couldn't stop it. I should have screamed. I should have fought back. I should have done something.'

'Cecil –'

'And everything hurt so much. I couldn't see straight for two hours, Dana.'

'Cecil –'

'And I felt so filthy. I wanted to get clean but there was nothing strong enough. Bleach, maybe, I just –' He gasped, and Dana felt strong hands gripping her wrists, digging their nails in. 'I need it to end Dana,' he shouted. 'Make it stop! I don't want to see these things! Make them go away!'

'Cecil,' she said. 'Cecil, I need you to tell me –'

'Oh god,' Cecil said, and she could see more than hear him hyperventilating. In the process of destroying his personality, the near-constant loudness that followed Cecil around had started to disappear as well but now came back with a vengeance. His breathing still was silent, but his chest movements were exaggerated.

Cecil rose from where he had been sitting, cross-legged on the floor, and tugged at his hair. Dana rose behind him, unsure of what to do. Was she supposed to hold him down? Force him to sit and drink cold water? She'd never trained for this before, and few things were scarier than a grown man pacing the floor manically.

'I can't remember,' Cecil insisted. 'I don't remember. It's wrong, it can't be – there's no way. No. It didn't happen, it didn't happen.'

'It did, Cecil,' she whispered, hushing him in her crowding. 'And I need you to tell me Cecil, who.'

'Who? No, Dana, please, it wasn't –'

'Who wasn't it?' Dana pressed.

Cecil was once again lost to outside contribution, holding his hands over his ears and muttering to himself. 'He would never do that,' Cecil said. 'He wouldn't. Steve wouldn't harm me. Steve and I are friends. Steve and I – THAT BIG JERK!' he shouted. Cecil crouched down next to his bed, covering his head with his hands. 'Steve wouldn't – no,' he said to his knees.

'Cecil,' she whispered. Dana could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise up once again, and knew she didn't have much longer. She slid the recording device from the sleeve of her jacket, holding it in her palm as she pressed him once more. 'Cecil, who is Steve?'

'Steve Carlsberg,' Cecil quipped. 'Steve Carls – Carlsberg. Steve Carlsberg,' he whimpered, continuing a litany of the other man's name.

Dana wrapped an arm around Cecil's frame, using the façade of making the hug a full one to toss the recorder under Cecil's bed, sighing in relief as it slid far enough back to be hidden.

'Did you get what you came for?' Dr Carlsberg asked softly.

Dana squeezed Cecil tightly, and whispered in his ear. 'This is real,' she said, and pinched his neck hard enough to bruise. Cecil didn't say a word in return, only continued to cry.

Dana stood up fully, collecting her bag from the floor. 'Do you believe half the shit he says?' Dr Carlsberg asked coolly.

And Dana decided that there was a difference between people like her and people like Dr Carlsberg. It was true that both could lie, but Dana hardly had a reason for doing so.

She knew what would happen before it actually did. 'Yes,' she responded, and attempted to push past Dr Carlsberg. He grabbed her from behind, clamping her mouth over with one hand, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch her nose, and using the other arm to hold her arms in.

Dana kicked and screamed and fought as much as she could. At the very least, she thought to herself, Cecil started to wake up. As the colour started draining from the walls, she heard Cecil scream her name behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

That Cecil experienced nightmares was not a topic up for debate. He was certain that he had always experienced horrible dreams, because everybody was just unfortunate enough to encounter such a circumstance at least once or twice in their lives. It was one of the few facts that Cecil could state with any amount of certainty: everyone had bad dreams. They just didn't all experience the same bad dream. And so the problem wasn't the existence of the nightmares, so much as Cecil's inability to differentiate between the reality and the dream.

He tried talking to the strange black box about it, but Steve Carlsberg managed to take it away from him. Cecil couldn't remember a lot of the incident, and he knew it was because he purposefully repressed the memories. If anyone had asked why he did as such, he would have said it was the law of the shadow government. He wasn't sure he could explain it any other way.

After Dana's last visit, though, he found it harder and harder to block out events of the past. He found himself remembering things he'd tried to forget for the sake of the bigger picture, and they leaked through anyway. Like the first time he and Carlos met, the death of his mother, and last April Fool's Day when he played a massive joke on Dana that she'd hardly been able to forgive him for. He tried to tell himself that these were little things, tried to remind himself that there was something much worse lurking on the horizon. But that was where the conundrum came up: what was the terrible thing lurking on the horizon? Knowing would break down the wall completely, but not knowing would leave him in a state of curiosity so intense he'd keep poking at the wall until it broke.

There were times when Cecil found himself sitting on the floor, hands cupping his ears, staring intently at the space in front of him, and he honestly couldn't remember how he got there. He'd look up and everything would be different. Like he'd passed out while the Otherworld crept in. Or out, for that matter; he never could tell. Only that things looked different. So very, very different.

For the most part, the other patients didn't bother him. Occasionally the Apache Tracker would come in and yell something at him in a mangled Russian, but he was mostly left alone. He wondered, on days when he was "awake," as he was calling it, if he looked like John Peters on his "off" days. John Peters mostly just stared at the pictures on the wall, oblivious to the others around him. Some of the other patients called him a farmer, because when given the chance he'd put on overalls.

Some days, Cecil felt like the only normal person in the place. He knew he was better off than the man who wore the tan jacket and stood outside of peoples' doors, waiting for them to come out. Because that really and truly was all he did – wait. He never hurt anybody, or even tried to talk to them. He just stood and waited. He was also not as far gone as Telly, who was constantly stealing pairs of safety scissors and trying to give people haircuts. Cecil stayed in his room mostly to avoid Telly. He couldn't say for sure what he would do if Telly got to close to him, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be very good.

Cecil started to leave his room more often after the incident with Dana. He had hoped he'd see her in among the crowd in the central room, but she never was there. He tried to remember that Dana lived on the outside world, and even wrote this in a notebook once. No matter how many times he said this to himself, he couldn't ever recall what, exactly, he meant by the outside world. These were Cecil's bad days.

On his good days, Angel or Erika would take him out back and let him do tests on the trees, even though neither he nor they knew what that meant. He touched them, though, and tried to feel their heartbeats. He knew that trees were alive and breathing, even if they weren't sentient in the same way. He'd always thought that if he just tried hard enough, he could feel their pulses rushing and their branches shiver when it got too windy. No one ever told him if he was right. No one ever told him if he was wrong.

On Thursdays, Big Rico in the cafeteria would make pizza. It was a treat for all well-behaved patients, but the permanence of the date made it feel mandated. Cecil would have joked that it was against the law not to eat Big Rico's pizza once a week, except he didn't know of anyone who would understand that he was joking.

_Cecil_ wasn't always sure when he was joking.

A week had passed since Dana disappeared, or left, or whatever it was people from the real world did when they left the hospital in a hurry (_or were made to leave the hospital in a hurry_ he thought, tried not to think), and Cecil finally stepped outside in time for group therapy. The woman leading the session seemed to be a firm believer in the power of tough love. She said things during sessions that made the other patients cry, like when she bluntly informed Hiram McDaniels that he was not, in fact, a five-headed dragon, but a short man with a Napoleon complex and a bad haircut. Telly had gotten unnaturally upset for an insult that wasn't lodged at him, and the session ended a half hour early. Cecil approached the doctor afterward and said to her, 'You should run for mayor.'

The woman blinked and tilted her head, her strange smile still in place. Cecil all but ran back to his room, not sure where the suggestion had even come from. When he tried to write down that day's experience in his journal, he found that he couldn't remember what the woman looked like. Just that she was a tad bit older, and that he always felt her looking over his shoulders.

Two days later, he finally participated, starting by introducing himself to the group. Despite his confidence where communicative matters were concerned, he failed to accurately describe himself upon command. He knew that the psychiatrist was trying to gauge how centred in reality Cecil was, but he found that he couldn't even remember what he looked like. 'I'm a man,' he decided to say. 'Not tall nor short, not fat nor thin.' Nobody in the circle, save for the doctor, the woman with the un-noticeable face, responded. Cecil wasn't sure what her head tilt and confused smile were meant to signify. He wasn't sure if he was making progress, or regressing.

Mostly, though, he wished Carlos would come back and visit him. He didn't voice this concern, though, because what if Carlos was the ultimate figment of his imagination? It seemed too good to be real, a boyfriend as attractive as Carlos willing to accept Cecil no matter what he was, or what he thought. And some days, Cecil still thought he had tentacles, and he wondered if Carlos could see them too. It seemed more likely to Cecil that he was inhuman than the idea that someone like Carlos could love him. His mother always complimented how well his bravado covered up his insecurities. Or maybe she hadn't said that at all.

Maybe he just made it up.

Maybe he didn't even have a mother.

The possibilities surrounding his life before the stifling lilac room were endless. It was one of the reasons he couldn't trust what he saw or thought anymore. He knew this place, this hospital was real, because it was a constant. And he knew that he was real, because he was capable of thinking all of these things. He knew there were probably arguments out there to dispute the certainty of that statement, but Cecil resisted finding them no matter how curious he was. It was easier to fall back on Rene Descartes than to contemplate existentialism and other depressing philosophies, and run the risk of going madder than he already was.

Group therapy was growing exceedingly awkward the more Cecil realized he had little to nothing in common with the other patients. Occasionally, one of them would talk about "the world outside," about their siblings and parents and lovers, and the therapist would smile and nod and jot down notes that Cecil couldn't read and didn't try to. There was a certain amount of consistency where talks of the "real world" were concerned – school, religion, politics. As far as Cecil could gather, it was 2013, he lived in the United States, Christianity was a major religion, going to college was a Big Deal, and Barrack Obama was president. The more the other people talked about these things, the more he came to believe them, and the more memories confirming their existence awakened and entered the forefront of his mind.

Or maybe they weren't memories. Maybe they were lies. Was it sanity, or insanity, to accept a commonly held belief as fact? The group therapist assured him after one session that this was "progress" and "a good thing," and she smiled happily at him before packing up her briefcase and starting for the door.

'Can I meet with you again?' Cecil asked, before she completely disappeared (from the hospital or from existence, Cecil was never sure. Did things continue to live once you stopped thinking about them?).

The woman smiled at him, the same unremarkable smile as always, with her tilted head and confused expression. 'Of course. We talk in group therapy every day, Cecil.'

Cecil shook his head and fringe fell in his face. He had to wonder how long he'd been in this place. He was fairly certain that he hadn't always had bangs, or that they hadn't always been this long. 'I mean one-on-one,' Cecil forced through his preoccupation.

The therapist smiled at him, congenially, and said, 'I think I'd like that.'

* * *

Cecil didn't use his fifty-minute alone time with the therapist to get some actual therapy as much as he used the time for fact-checking. Sometimes the answers were objective, like when he asked her if the hospital was real. Other times, they were obvious, such as when he asked her about the colour of the sky.

But sometimes, he would ask her a question, and she'd look confused and vaguely alarmed, and he made note that it was probably not a sane question to ask, and therefore probably not based in reality. But still, he was never sure.

When he finally managed the nerve, about a week after his first group therapy session, two weeks after Dana disappeared, more than a month, he would estimate, since he arrived at the hospital, he asked the therapist about what had happened to him.

'You were raped,' she said in that blunt way of hers.

Cecil breathed in slowly, his head counting to ten, before exhaling in the same measure. 'Okay,' he whispered.

The therapist tilted her head. 'You don't seem surprised,' she commented.

Cecil shook his head. 'I'm not,' he licked his lips, emboldening himself for the next information request. 'But do they know who did…it?'

She touched her right pointer finger to her mouth, and made her hands into a steeple for her to hide her mouth behind. 'Inquiries have been made, complaints have been lodged, and your case has been re-opened, especially in light of the disappearance of your work colleague and friend, Dana. There has not been, however, an official conclusion to the case.

'But what do you think, Cecil?' she asked, leaning forward. 'Do you remember what happened? Do you know who did those things to you?'

Cecil leaned back in the chair, hiking his legs up so that his muscles tense and the racket of anxiety in his chest lessened slightly. 'I don't really remember all that much of that night,' he said. 'And I don't think I want to.'

'You're specifically avoiding the second part of the question,' she said after a pause.

Cecil drew the cuffs of his sleeves over his hands, and started using the soft material to rub at his face. With an absent mind, he wondered how long this had been a habit for him. He wondered if he could make it stop.

He closed his eyes and his brain sent a message to his arm. _Don't do that_, he told himself.

There was a dull surprise in his chest when the command worked, and he felt his stomach solidify. Not in the way it normally did when he felt scared and froze up, but in a way that made _him_ feel solid, feel whole. Like he was coming back down to the Earth. Like he was coming back into himself.

'Cecil?' she prompted. He'd nearly forgotten that he was in singular, one-on-one therapy, and he toyed with the end of his sleeve cuff.

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you who – who I think it is. Who I thought it was,' he said.

The woman was sitting now on the edge of her seat, and Cecil was confronted with a very real picture of her. He could see a few grey hairs standing out at the roots, and bags from sleepless nights and wrinkles from smiling and frowning all lining her face. She was a human being, and just like him she was neither tall nor short, neither thin nor fat. She wasn't some sort of monster, however benevolent or malevolent.

'Cecil,' she whispered. 'Dr Carlsberg isn't here anymore.'

Cecil drew back from his study of her face, and contemplated the words that left her mouth with an uneasy feeling. His name alone made him squirm in discomfort, and he felt – ridiculously, he could admit even in his liminal state – as though he were being touched. _Violated_. 'So you already know what I think,' Cecil countered.

The woman shook her head sadly. 'I know what your boyfriend thinks. I know what your colleague thinks. I know what a few of the nurses and desk clerk Josie thinks. But I didn't ask you, Cecil, about what they thought. I want to know what you think.'

Cecil wet his lips and permitted his mouth to fall open in the slightest. He could feel himself trembling, his body trying to reject what his mind was trying to remember. There wasn't a lot there, and there was a voice in his head telling him that repressed memories should just stay repressed, because they were that way for a reason. 'I think Carlos is right,' Cecil said. 'And I think Dana is right.'

'Why?' his therapist asked.

Cecil threw a guard up, the question causing an immediate need for self-defence to rise in his chest. 'Just because I don't remember it, that doesn't mean it didn't happen, doctor,' he snapped.

'I'm well aware of that, Cecil,' she said calmly. 'And I didn't say it never happened. We know for a fact that it did. What I want to know is why you believe what others have told you. Why believe Carlos and Dana, but not the Apache Tracker or Telly the Barber?'

Cecil's mind fixated on one point, one word in her vocabulary. 'Carlos the scientist is real?'

She nodded. 'Indeed, he is. Very real.'

'Can I see him?' Cecil could hear the desperation in his voice. It was ridiculous and lovesick. Eavesdroppers would be inclined to think it was Carlos in the asylum, Carlos crazy and wounded, Carlos in need of protection.

'I need you to answer the question,' she said sternly.

'I need to know where Carlos is,' Cecil shouted. But it was no use. The woman only stared at him, expression blank. Cecil sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'I believe what Dana and Carlos believe, because I found a recording device under my bed. And the recording was of me talking. Me talking to Dana, and trying not to relive the experience. And when she asked me who hurt me, I told her it was Steve.' Cecil raised his head to gain even eye contact with the woman, his equal, his opposition. 'And I haven't seen Dana since. Steve had been listening in and he ended our conversation by taking Dana away. No one will tell me what happened to her.'

The woman smiled in a lopsided way. 'Do you hear what you said there, Cecil?'

Cecil shook his head, confused. 'Something extraordinary?' he asked.

'You called him Steve. Not Dr Carlsberg, and not his full name, like you usually do on your radio show. Just his first name, the way a person who knew him in real life might do.'

Cecil nodded slowly. 'Can I see Carlos?' he asked.

The therapist had taken up a legal pad and a pen, setting it aloft in her lap. 'Let's think about the weekend, shall we?' she asked, and started to write up a plan for the rest of Cecil's week.

* * *

Cecil didn't know how, but his therapist had managed to get him a free pass for not only one whole day, but for a night time too. As long as Carlos brought him back by one on Saturday afternoon, the two were allowed to spend Friday however they pleased. Cecil didn't think it wise to ask how she'd managed such a feat, as she might take questioning as uncertainty and change her mind. The last thing Cecil wanted to do was jeopardize his time with Carlos, especially as he wasn't sure how long the lab would permit Carlos to be away for.

But Carlos showed up as soon as the hospital was open to visitors, paperwork ready to be turned in except for those which needed a witness to the signing – not for legal reasons so much as for Cecil's security. They double checked and triple checked Carlos's identity against his ID and what Cecil had said about him before finally allowing him through the door and down the hall to Cecil's room.

He and Cecil simply stared at one another for a moment, breath bated, both waiting for something terrible to happen. Both waiting for the other to make the first move. It was a repeat of the precursor to their relationship, really.

'Cecil?' Carlos whispered. Cecil nodded, hand still lingering on his desk as Carlos approached him, now with more confidence.

'Wait,' Cecil said, and Carlos stopped in mid step. Cecil stepped forward, so close that he and Carlos were nearly touching foreheads. 'Let me just – let me just touch you. Make sure you're… you're real,' Cecil said. Carlos nodded.

Cecil placed his hands on Carlos's cheeks, applying just enough pressure to feel his cheekbones. He rubbed them, making sure they stayed in place despite his manipulation. He ran his fingers lightly over Carlos's ears, his neck, his eyelids, his eyebrows, before coming to cup his shoulders.

'Say something,' Cecil demanded, still regarding Carlos with a wary look. 'Before the doctor leaves the rom. Say something, please,' he begged.

Carlos had forgotten about the plain-faced woman watching them from the corner. He looked at her, just once, out of the corner of his eyes, before simply saying 'Hi.'

Cecil groaned. 'Carlos, dear Carlos, anyone can say hello. Say something substantial, please. I need to know you're real.'

Carlos let himself think, trying to see if there was any sort of reference to their life before that he could drag up and make Cecil believe. He finally settled on a song they both knew, a song which made him of rainy Sunday mornings where they just laid together and did nothing at all of consequence. 'I am the son, and the heir; I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does.'

Cecil laughed, smoothing his hands down Carlos's chest to rest on the front of his jacket, twisting the fabric in his hands as he leaned in to lay his head at the crook of Carlos's neck. 'Oh, Carlos,' he whispered.

Carlos gingerly put one hand on Cecil's head, another near his waist – not on his hip, mindful that he might unwittingly trigger his love.

When they pulled away, the woman had vanished. Cecil sat on his bed, rubbing the sheets as though it were the first time he were feeling them. It occurred to Carlos that possibly, it was.

'What do you want to do today, Cecil?' he asked.

Cecil looked up. 'How long can the lab spare you?'

'As long as I need,' Carlos assured him.

Cecil's brow furrowed, and he licked his lips quickly before asking. 'I thought… that you spent more time on science than on anything else. That science was your first love?'

Carlos sat down next to Cecil, far enough away so that he could turn and look at him. 'We have had that argument before, and we will probably have it again. It is an issue I face. Science is my security blanket. I hide behind it when I don't know how to act or how to feel.' Carlos ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. Cecil tried to memorize where all the grey hairs were, and wondered if they had always been there, or if he had just imagined them. If he was still imagining them now. 'Cecil,' he said, and regained Cecil's attention. 'You have taught me so many things, not the least of which is that there are things in life more important than science. More important than control. More important than knowing all the answers. If the lab needs someone to watch over an experiment, whoever it is that needs supervision can always ask Vanessa.'

'Vanessa…' Cecil trailed off. 'An intern, yes?'

Cecil nodded. 'Engaged to Kevin, your rival from college.'

Cecil smirked. 'Oh, she would be, wouldn't she?'

'Well,' Carlos said loftily, 'She couldn't have you. I guess she figured he was the next best thing.'

Cecil laughed, and the sound erupted in his chest, and he felt the vibrations. And he couldn't stop laughing, because it tickled and it felt wonderful and for the first time in however long it had been, he felt something.

* * *

'So you never answered my question,' Carlos said conversationally, as they drove back to his flat. Their flat. 'What are we doing today? Well, today and for part of tomorrow.'

Cecil swallowed, now unsure of his idea. _My therapist agrees_, he reminded himself._ And if Carlos loves me, he'll agree too_. 'I want to relive our firsts.'

Carlos nodded. 'You mean like, first date, first kiss, first everything?'

'First everything,' Cecil agreed.

Carlos smiled at him, and Cecil felt a fluttering in his chest. _This is what it feels like, to be alive_. 'I think I can make that happen.'

* * *

'Was our first date really at Arby's?' Cecil asked, unable to contain his laugh.

'Well, sort of,' Carlos said. 'I was so nervous to ask you out that I completely butchered it. I think I might've said something really poetic and esoteric instead.'

Cecil chewed his sandwich thoughtfully, while Carlos took a sip from his drink. 'You mean,' Cecil said carefully, 'Like, "Sometimes, things seem so strange, or malevolent, and then you find that, underneath, it was something else altogether. Something pure, and innocent"?'

It was Carlos's turn to look at Cecil with reverence. 'You remembered?'

'Of course I remembered,' Cecil said softly. 'I wrote it down in my diary. I wasn't sure if I should be offended or not.'

Carlos laughed sheepishly. 'Well, you were sort of…stalking me.'

'I was not!' Cecil shouted. Carlos merely raised a suspicious eyebrow, and Cecil blushed. 'Not really,' he amended. The look didn't change. 'It was a small campus,' he grumbled.

'You kept talking about how perfect I was –'

'Okay, I admit, that's a little creepy. I was sort of obsessed with you. Infatuated.'

'Really? I didn't notice,' Carlos said sarcastically. Cecil slapped him playfully on the arm. 'It was weird for me, having someone consider me so…fascinating. Because I'm not. I'm so normal and so boring. You, Cecil – you were fascinating.'

'You almost died,' Cecil remembered. 'You… a gang from out in Desert Bluffs –no, no. That's not the name. What is the name? Our rival school?'

Carlos closed his eyes. 'I can't remember, Cecil. And it doesn't really matter.'

'It does, though,' Cecil said. 'I thought you'd died. It was one of the most horrifying experiences –'

'But I didn't, Cecil,' Carlos said, resting a hand on Cecil's knee. 'I didn't die, Cecil. I'm still right here. I'll always be right here.'

Cecil took a deep breath. 'I feel so stupid, for all of that. I made such a fool of myself.'

'Don't think about it,' Carlos said. Cecil hid his head in his hands, until Carlos pulled the hands away. 'Seriously, Cecil, none of that matters anymore.'

Cecil let the hands be pulled away, let Carlos tip his head up, let himself be kissed. 'I just… It feels like I was a different person. Like I'll never be that way again.'

'Maybe you won't,' Carlos said. 'But you'll always be Cecil.' And Cecil knew that what he meant was, _And I'll always love you_.

* * *

Cecil couldn't stop laughing. 'I forgot how awkward you were,' he said. 'I thought I'd just made that up, that whole thing about you thinking lately because that's what scientists do.'

Carlos was blushing terribly and shaking his head. 'I was such an idiot. I don't think I said anything right that night.'

'What about experimenting on the trees? Did that really happen, or was that my imagination?'

'That, ah, that didn't happen,' Carlos said, shaking his head. 'I don't know if this was part of your…remembering, or not, but there were people looking at the sky and shouting in terror.'

'You're lying!' Cecil cried with laughter.

'No, no! I'm totally serious. They were all high on something. Never did figure out what, though.'

They let the silence fall between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Cecil let his head fall against the headrest of the car. He remembered being the one driving, but they weren't altogether sure if driving was a good idea for him right now. 'What happened next? I can't quite remember.'

Carlos leaned forward, nearly cutting off Cecil's words, and kissed him. Softly, just once. Cecil felt starstruck and overjoyed, just like the first time.

'I remember really hoping that you'd invite me in. Even if it was just to look at your experiments. I just wanted to be with you.'

'And I really wanted to invite you in,' Carlos said. 'But I was so afraid to. I wasn't sure I was ready to extend myself that much.'

'Can I come in this time?' Cecil asked.

'Well,' Carlos said, with an awkward smile. 'I'm not going into the lab tonight, remember? And my place is your place too – if you still want it to be,' Carlos said softly, looking anywhere but at Cecil's face.

Cecil leaned forward and kissed Carlos again. 'Always,' he said. 'Now take me home, Carlos.'

* * *

The flat hadn't changed very much, if at all. It was slightly messier than Cecil remembered it being, but he hadn't been in the flat for so long that it was entirely possible that the flat had always been this messy.

Cecil didn't give Carlos much of a chance to get settled, wrapping his arms around Carlos's shoulders and kissing him soundly. He let his hands tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck, slipping his tongue into Carlos's mouth –

Until Carlos pushed him back. 'Cecil, no. Are you sure you're ready to do that?'

Carlos was giving him a stare with which Cecil was becoming all too familiar: head tilted, brow furrowed, look concerned. 'Carlos, I'm fine.'

Carlos pulled Cecil's hands from around his neck and kissed his hands. 'I don't know that you are, Cecil. The attack wasn't that long ago –'

'And I need to associate this sort of act with somebody else,' Cecil said in frustration. 'Just trust me, Carlos. _Please_.'

Carlos blinked, feeling at a loss. 'Okay, Cecil. Whatever you want.'

Cecil lead Carlos to the couch and kissed him hard, running his tongue against Carlos's lower lip. He straddled Carlos's lap, and Carlos finally started to kiss back. He held Cecil's hips in place firmly, but without leaving bruises. Cecil leaned down closer, rubbing his hips against Carlos's. Carlos panted, and laid Cecil down on the couch below him. He crawled atop Cecil's body, running his hands down Cecil's side.

Cecil panicked and shouted. 'Carlos, _stop_.'

Carlos backed away to the other end of the couch, as far from Cecil as he could get. Feeling still that he wasn't far enough, he stood up and walked away. 'I'm sorry, Cecil, I'm so sorry.'

'Carlos, no, it's not your fault –'

'Yes it is!' he yelled in a panic. 'I shouldn't have agreed to that, I shouldn't have kissed you – oh god, I should take you back to the hospital –'

'Carlos,' Cecil shouted. '_Stop_.'

Carlos had his hands fisted in his hair, and Cecil wondered how long this intense anxiety of his had been going on. 'I don't want to go back, Carlos.'

'But Cecil –'

'No.' Cecil said. 'I knew all of the risks before I made this decision, and I wouldn't have asked the therapist for time off if I didn't think I couldn't handle it. She wouldn't have let me come if I didn't think I could handle it.'

Carlos nodded. 'So we're agreed – no sex then. Great –'

'No, Carlos,' Cecil said. 'We're not agreed on anything.'

'But Cecil –'

'No!' Cecil said. 'Carlos, I want to be with you. And that means that I want to _be with_ you, in every way possible.' He took Carlos's hands in his own, setting them in his lap. 'I know scary for you, and you have every right to be afraid. But I need you to calm down, because I need you to be less frightened than me. I need you to be strong, for when I can't be.

It's going to be difficult, Carlos. I won't lie about that. But I can't spend the rest of my life in that hospital, pretending to be a radio host when I can actually be a real one. I can't go back to just pretending you're there with me when I can actually be here with you.'

'I don't want to hurt you,' Carlos whispered.

'I know,' Cecil said, caressing his face. 'But you need to remember that you're not the one who hurt me. You need to keep in mind that some days will be awful, that I'll cry, that I'll remember things I don't want to remember and that I won't want to be touched.

'But I can't be fixed, Carlos. I can't go back to the way I used to be, and neither can you. We both have to live with who I am now. Some days I might need you to remind me what's real and what isn't. Some days I'll need you to hold me down and tell me everything will be all right. Some days you'll have to break me out of my hallucinations. But I can't keep holding back forever, Carlos. And I need to know if you'll be there to help me through it.'

Carlos looked up, tears in his eyes. 'Of course, Cecil,' he said. 'Always.'


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow, Cecil had managed to manipulate Carlos's words into, "It's too early in the day for sex, so let's go do some other things and see how it pans out later on." Of course, that wasn't even a little bit close to what Carlos had said, but Cecil wasn't hearing any of it. He was convinced that they could do this, that this would work. And so they acted as though the awkward little incident that had just occurred had never happened, hopped into the car, and decided to visit the radio station.

He knew there was no way to make Cecil forget about the 'promise,' as Cecil had called it, that Carlos had made. No matter how much Carlos wanted him to forget about the whole thing. It wasn't so much that Carlos didn't want Cecil in that way – it wasn't as though he was hypersexual, but it had been a while and he was beginning to get a little addled by the pent-up tension he smothered in his stomach at night. Carlos had missed Cecil, in every way possible, and in ways he hadn't even thought of. But having sex this soon after the trauma? Carlos wasn't sure it was such a good idea. The problem was, he couldn't tell who would have a harder time dealing with it: Cecil, if things went wrong, or himself, if things went right.

Cecil was still eyeing him from the passenger's seat of the car as Carlos drove them out to the radio station. Cecil wanted to see it, to see his booth, to get grounded in reality at least a little bit, and this was one wish Carlos felt comfortable fulfilling.

The station hadn't changed much in the time Cecil had been gone, at least not from the outside. It even still looked the same inside, but the air was denser and less colourful. Like the building itself missed Cecil. Carlos was struck once again with the overwhelming realization of what Cecil meant to this place – not just the radio station, but to the listeners, to the entire town where he was regarded something of a local celebrity. He felt the fear crawling up the back of his neck again, making him nearly shiver, but his anger stifled it. Steve Carlsberg hadn't just taken something from Cecil, something from Carlos, but something from the whole town. Night Vale had practically raised Cecil, and Steve Carlsberg had nearly destroyed that product. But what frustrated Carlos the most, in that moment, was that no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

Cecil nudged Carlos with his elbow, quizzical look gracing his face. 'You okay?' he asked. Carlos looked down and saw that his grip on Cecil's hand had tightened to the point where it was bright pink, dawning on red.

'Yes,' Carlos lied, edges of his mouth tilting upward. 'Fine, fine. Perfectly fine.'

Cecil clearly didn't buy it, but said nothing. He merely lowered his eyebrows, and continued his observation of the station, making notes in his head.

'Okay,' he said. 'This is…this is similar to what I had…' he trailed off, blinking slowly. 'To what I had imagined,' he said.

'What's different?' Carlos prompted.

'Uhm, well,' he licked his lips. 'I just – sometimes it looked…it looked different.'

'How do you mean?'

Rather than answering his question, Cecil dragged him over to the welcome desk. 'Hello, I was wondering – is there any way I could get a look at one of the booths –'

'Cecil?' the girl at the desk squealed. She jumped up from where she sat, ran behind the counter, and threw herself at Cecil. 'Cecil! Oh, thank god, it's been so long!'

Cecil had dropped Carlos's hand in the surprise, and looked stunned by her reaction. Stunned, and uncomfortable with the full-body contact. Carlos felt a surge of guilt here. _I knew we were moving too quickly_, he thought. _I should have said no_. Cecil pushed the girl down by her shoulders, and made her stand at arm's length. On anyone else, the movement would have been clumsy. Cecil made it look fluid, natural.

The girls eyes were wide, and bright, and stained with tears. She turned to Carlos. 'Oh,' she said. 'You –you must be Carlos, the scientist! Cecil talks about you all the time. I'm Vithia –' she held out a hand for Carlos to shake. 'I'm an intern here, while Dana's away.'

'Vithia,' Cecil confirmed, trying the name on his tongue. 'Vithia – that's what I've been meaning to ask you. Where is Dana?'

Vithia shrugged. 'I don't know – family vacation or something? Last thing she did was went to see you.'

Carlos and Cecil exchanged worried looks. 'Should we go…?' Carlos prompted.

Cecil swiped his tongue over his lips again. 'N – No, not yet,' he breathed. 'Vithia – I was wondering, is there anyone in my booth right now? Could I go and just, you know, take a look?'

Vithia smiled brightly. 'No, no one's been using it since –' she faltered. 'Well, no one but you uses it. Of course you can see it, should be unlocked.' She nodded down the hall, to the last room on the left-hand side.

Cecil huffed, gingerly taking Carlos's hand in his, and began down the hall with slow, precise steps. Like there was a secret algorithm in the floor, a puzzle he had to solve in just the right way in order to actually make it to the office. When they finally reached the door, Cecil touched it, just once, with the pad of his pointer finger. He let it slide down, feeling the cool metal on his skin, revelling in the sensation of familiarity and routine as his hand twined around the handle and turned, pushing the door into the room.

It looked normal to Carlos, the same as it had looked the few other times he'd been in before. 'So,' he started, trying not to sound too nervous. 'Did they do some redecorating in the other Night Vale?'

Cecil blinked, turning back to his lover. 'The "other Night Vale,"' he said. 'Huh. I like that,' he turned around, using a finger to wipe a line of dust from the microphone. How long had it been, Carlos wondered, since this equipment had been cleaned? Even if no one was using it, it would still be gathering dust.

'There were some times… when I'd come in, when I'd see this place… and it would be covered in blood,' Cecil rushed. 'Covered in viscera, assuming it wasn't made out of – out of human flesh, or something similar.' Cecil let his eyes fall closed, before opening them again rapidly, blinking several times. 'And on those days… On those bad days, I… I wasn't me, Carlos.'

Although Cecil had said his name, he remained turned from Carlos, staring not at but through one of the room's blank walls. 'I was… I was someone named Kevin. And I still – I sort of looked like me. Same height, same build… but black eyes, Carlos. Razor sharp teeth, a third eye and tentacles,' he shook his head. 'I was a monster.'

Carlos stepped up in front of his boyfriend, skimming one finger along the surface of Cecil's hand. He traced the bones, the cartilage, until Cecil looked up at him, tears on the borders of his eyes threatening to drop with the first blink. 'I was –' he swallowed. 'I _am_. I am so afraid, Carlos,' he whispered.

Carlos stepped slightly closer, enough for Cecil to hear his whispered question. 'But what, Cecil? What frightens you?'

'That – that monster, that's – it's me,' he said. 'I'm afraid I'll lose my way again, that I'll slip. But mostly I'm afraid, even now, that I'm not certain on what's real and what isn't.'

* * *

Carlos knew Cecil really wanted to see and speak to Dana, but there appeared to be no way to reach her. 'Do you know her address? We could swing by –'

'No use,' Cecil said. 'I called her mom – no one's home.'

Carlos wet his lips, trying to think of a next move to take. 'Well, what do you think happened to her? You said you saw Steve come up behind her –'

'What I think is incorrect.'

'Cecil, you don't know that –'

'I don't trust my own memory,' he snapped. He leaned forward in his seat, so that his forehead touched the dashboard. 'Jesus,' he swore. They drove along in silence for a grand total of three minutes before Cecil asked, 'Do you really want to know what I think?'

'Always,' Carlos responded.

And this was how they found themselves back at the hospital, rather earlier than expected. The front desk was oddly empty, as was the rest of the lobby – that part, at least, was par for the course. Cecil stared at the number pad which locked the door, before wildly jabbing buttons.

'Cecil!' Carlos hissed. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Trying to open the door,' he said. The rolling of his eyes was evident in his voice.

'You could wind up breaking the door, the lock, or worse – setting off a different kind of –' the door clicked, and the light above it turned green. 'Or that. That works.'

Cecil sent Carlos a triumphant grin over his shoulder, to which Carlos responded by shaking his head and smiling at the ground. It was good to know that, in some ways, Cecil hadn't changed at all. 'Do you have a specific room in mind, or are we just gonna peek in all the rooms?'

Cecil bit his lip, looking from side to side. 'I'm not… too sure, actually,' he admitted. 'But none of these doors would be a supply closet, I think –' he broke off, head turning. 'Did you just hear… did you hear coughing?'

Carlos listened closely, and heard some rustling from a space just to their left. 'Something – Cecil!'

Cecil had started running toward the noise, which appeared to be emanating from behind a careworn door a few feet from the common room. Cecil fidgeted with the handle before proceeding to try and ram it open with the right side of his body. Carlos carefully moved him out of the way. 'Dana,' he called. 'If you're – If you're awake, you might wanna step back, or something, just in case.' Carlos took a deep breath before lifting his right leg and stamping it into the door.

The lock, which had clearly seen better days, broke off, the remaining parts chipping at the wood of the door frame. Dana was sat on the floor, weary eyes blinking at the light. Cecil dropped to his knees and loosened the wrap from around her lips, removing what appeared to be a sock from her mouth. Carlos worked on the knots at her feet, and inspected a puncture wound he saw at her neck.

'Shit,' he hissed. Dana collapsed over, head resting on Carlos's shoulder. 'Cecil,' he whispered frantically. 'What do we do?'

'Take her back to yours, of course.'

'What, you think no-one'll notice?'

'Of course we'll notice,' a soft voice from behind him said. 'We're just not going to say anything.' One of the nurses, Erika, had appeared behind them as they argued.

'This isn't –'

'It is what it looks like,' she said. 'It is exactly what it looks like.' Carlos swallowed. 'And I'm not seeing it, you understand?' Cecil nodded.

'But if you don't approve of this – and clearly you don't, or you'd be trying to stop us – why didn't you do something?' Carlos asked angrily.

The young woman tilted her head. 'You really don't know what this is like, having to work for someone so abusive. How terrifying it is. How many job options do you think I have? It's difficult for anyone to get a job. Let's say I did try to do something. What happens if or when I get caught? It wouldn't have been good for me, and it would have been worse for her.'

Erika reached into one of her trouser pockets, and produced the recorder from the box-like object Carlos had brought Cecil on his second visit. 'This was still in his office. He told me to throw it out, said it was garbage. It was small enough that I managed to pocket it. It still has everything on it. I think –' she paused to breathe. 'I think he got off on it, in some weird way. There's no other reason for him to have kept it.'

Erika looked both ways. 'Someone's coming. You need to get going, and now. Boss isn't here today, he's having a little leave of absence, so we called Josie into the front desk. She'll let you out, no problem,' Erika looked around, though nothing seemed to be there. It dawned on Carlos that Erika was, perhaps, not a nurse at all, but another patient. That was something he'd heard of them doing before – patients intelligent enough to pose as doctors.

It didn't matter at the moment. 'Get going,' Erika hissed. 'Someone's coming.'

They didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

_The movie was one of the absolute worst. Going to see it to make fun of it had become something of a cult activity, but unlike a few other cult classics, it hadn't achieved its status by being too weird for the audience or intentionally bad. It was just bad, meant to be good but didn't even start in the right direction, and Cecil sometimes felt a second-hand embarrassment for the people who had to help make the film. _

_'You can come with us, if you want,' he'd told Carlos cheerfully. _

_Carlos smiled, but shook his head. 'Nah, I've got some studies to peruse. Besides, you wouldn't want me hanging all over you all the time. You'd get bored of me.'_

_Cecil slung his arms around Carlos's neck, giving him a deep and intense stare that often made Carlos feel uncomfortable. It wasn't that Cecil was analysing him, trying to read him, trying to threaten him. It was an honest look, and one that still made Carlos blush and stammer and look down in embarrassment. _

_'Oh, Dear Carlos,' Cecil said. 'I will never be bored of you.' Cecil was an excellent kisser, a fact of which he was well aware. Cecil had to admit that in a good chunk of his previous relationships, both good and bad, kissing had been his favourite thing to do. Most of his previous boyfriends had been dull, or unintelligent, or unimaginative, and since kissing was the best and politest way to get them to shut up, Cecil had gotten a lot of practice. _

_Carlos was different. Anything Cecil could do with Carlos was his favourite thing to do with Carlos; their mindless conversations, walking or sitting in silence – even their fights were better. So he'd made kissing into a commodity, and it had never felt so intimate. It was wonderful, captivating, peaceful, and it was something Cecil didn't want to share with the rest of the world. He wasn't ashamed, not in the least. But Carlos was his Carlos, and he was possessive even of their kissing, although he tried so hard not to let it show._

_(And if Carlos knew, and found it endearing, something of a turn-on, he didn't say anything.)_

_Cecil pushed back from their kiss, sighing. 'Well, if you insist on being left to your papers, who am I to stop the progression of science? I should be home shortly after midnight,' he said, and concluded, 'Don't worry about me, Carlos. Dana's there, and we all know how much ass she can kick.'_

_It was true that Dana was tough and Carlos was worrisome, but Cecil had an unfortunate tendency to never think of the "What If"s in life. It was simply against his personal policy, his outlook on life. Enough bad things happened in life without him adding a dour attitude to the situation. No judgment from him, though, on people who did live their lives that way. They couldn't help their pessimism any more than he could contain his optimism. _

_He found Dana seated at a small circular table just next to the bar. The cinema was old-fashioned on the outside, but the inside was still fairly modern and comfortable, with a small seating area (Cecil really just couldn't bring himself to call it a bar when it lacked all the necessary social elements of such a watering hole) just off to the side, where patrons normally gathered to talk before the start of a movie. He was greeted with a little surprise, though, leaning in the doorway._

_'Steve!' He was slightly flummoxed to see his ex in the theatre at all. In all the time they had been dating, Steve had never expressed an interest in film. Or in much of anything, really, for that matter. 'It's such a surprise to see you here. How have you been?'_

_Steve shrugged, looking at Cecil oddly. 'Where's Carlos?' he asked._

_'Oh,' Cecil said. 'He's, uh, at home, going over some papers. You know, science-y stuff.'_

_Steve nodded, but didn't really draw in the information; his eyes didn't close, he didn't look away, didn't even break eye-contact with Cecil. It was starting to make him uncomfortable, but then Steve always had a way of doing that. To everybody. 'Why don't you join Dana and I -?'_

_'No,' Steve said, only a few temperatures above freezing. 'I'm good. I'll see you inside, though.'_

_Cecil nodded, and locked eyes with Dana instead. She had her brows raised, and as he set his bag of plastic spoons down, she said, 'Well, that was awkward.'_

_'Yeah,' Cecil said. 'No kidding.'_

* * *

Waiting in the emergency room was not how Cecil had been expecting to spend his leave of absence. But they'd managed to find Dana, and so he couldn't really complain. What they were still doing here was beyond him – it wasn't like they were going to let Cecil or Carlos back to see her, when they were hardly family.

'Mr Palmer?' the doctor called. Cecil stood up, and looked to Carlos. Carlos had sat up straight, but not moved from the chair. He simply motioned that Cecil should go on.

Cecil approached the doctor with some trepidation, unsure if he should trust the man or not. 'Yes, Dr… Dr Williams?' Cecil asked, concentrating on the badge pinned to the doctor's coat.

'She'll be fine,' he said, and Cecil sighed with relief. 'It might take a while, though. She's awake, but hardly what I'd call lucid. Her blood sugar's through the floor, her blood pressure's off, and we're still trying to stabilize her heart rate by getting her to breathe calmly. I don't think she'll cooperate until she sees you. She seems really worried.'

'Yeah,' Cecil nodded. 'Okay. So – so can I go in and see her?'

The doctor rubbed the back of his head with one hand. 'It's kind of against hospital policy, but I made a vow to do no harm. If this is what the young lady wants, if it's what will get her to get some sleep without being forced some medication, then I'm willing to work with it.' He nodded over Cecil's shoulder, to where Carlos sat. 'Does your brother want to come in too, or –'

'Boyfriend,' Cecil corrected. 'Yeah, I'm sure Dana'll want to see him as well.' The doctor nodded, indicating with his right hand that Carlos should join them. 'I'm going to be standing outside. Not eavesdropping, but I do need to be close enough to come back in in the event that her health starts to decline even further,' he explained as he lead them back toward her room.

Dana's eyes were bloodshot, narrowed not from suspicion as much as tiredness. There was an IV connected to her arm, and she sat with her hands on her lap. Normally she kept her hair back with a hairband, headband, ponytail holder, anything, but now… now it looked as though she'd been electrocuted, shocks of it falling in her eyes or standing straight on end. She looked as though she'd aged by several years, and Cecil hid his shock with a hand to his mouth. Even if he hadn't, she probably wouldn't have noticed. Carlos wondered how long it had been since she'd slept.

'I'm thinking the attacker's intent,' the doctor started up, startling both Cecil and Carlos, 'Was to discredit whatever evidence she had to give. She said something about a Steve Carlsberg? All I know is that he works at the mental hospital. Or, I should say, worked. No one's been able to find him for the past couple days.'

Carlos turned to Cecil, eyes raised. 'When was the last time you saw, uh, Dr Carlsberg?'

Cecil blinked slowly. 'The day Dana went missing. Ever since then it's been… it's been one of the Erikas, or Angel.' He looked Carlos in the eyes, a certain knowledge passing between them.

Carlos turned to the doctor. 'Thanks for the information. Could we speak to Dana alone now?' The doctor nodded, backing out of the room without further comment.

'You got that recorder with you, Carlos?' Dana asked weakly. 'I'm not sure how long I can hold out for, 'til I pass out. I wanna make sure this all gets down somewhere.'

Carlos patted the pocket in his flannel shirt before hissing 'Shit, I knew I'd forgotten something!'

Cecil shook his head, and produced from his jeans pocket the small recording device Erika had handed back to them before they left the hospital. He clicked the button to fast forward past whatever was on there, came to a stop at the end, and nodded to Dana before pressing record.

'I'm not sure what he got me with,' she started. 'All I know is that I fought against it. Cecil wasn't the only one freaking out, but I think the rest of the staff and the patients were too afraid to do anything. Was weird, though… Not many people work there, not many people in there. Wh' happened to all the people?' She blinked slowly, shaking her head from side to side. 'I lost control of my limbs, couldn't feel anything. He sat me in the closet n' locked th' door,' her words were starting to slur, like she was losing consciousness.

'I know we know who you're talking about, Dana,' Carlos said steadily, 'But we need you to state it for the record.'

'St've C'rlsberg,' she slurred. 'Steeve Caarlsberrg,' she said, more confidently. 'Steve Carlsberg,' she said, making sure to annunciate.

She looked to Cecil. 'You got it?' Cecil nodded, hand holding the recorder trembling slightly. 'Good,' she said. 'Don' think I'kin hold out much lnger.' Her eyelids started to droop, and Cecil put one hand on top of hers.

'It's okay, Dana,' he said. 'You just –you just go to sleep now, okay?'

Dana was already one step ahead of him, head falling to her shoulder as her chest rose and fell rhythmically. The doctor entered from behind them. 'Oh! I was just about to come in and give her some meds, but if she's already asleep then I'm not going to wake her.' He put the bottle back in his coat pocket, check the clipboard in his hand, and turned to the other two men. 'I'm sorry guys, but I'm really going to have to insist that you leave until she calls for you again. If you know how to get a hold of her parents – or of any other relatives, for that matter, that would be best.' Cecil nodded, promising to get to work on that as soon as possible. He felt so useless, unable to help Dana now, that he figured this simple request was the least he could do.

* * *

_The movie itself had actually been fine. No awkward mutterings, uneasy glances, unsubtle shifts away. The theatre was pretty crowded, as it always was when it got to showing this film. Cecil had completely forgotten about his awkward confrontation with Steve, had enjoyed a lovely cocktail and a great conversation with Dana, and wasn't letting Steve's grumpy ass ruin his mood. So it wasn't the film that went wrong, it was everything after._

_Dana found with some surprise that a couple friends of her had also been to the show, and instead of wasting money on a cab (like she had to get there) or bus fare, they offered her a ride home. She grinned with acceptance, and went to give Cecil a goodbye hug. Cecil, on the other hand, had enjoyed the walk over there. The exercise was good for him, after all, and it was a nice night. He might as well enjoy the walk back. He was taking a shortcut through an alleyway when the voice from behind startled him. 'So I take it you and Carlos aren't doing so well?'_

_Cecil turned quickly. 'Steve? Jesus, you scared me.'_

_'Why isn't your scientist with you? Really, why isn't he with you?'_

_'Because he's looking over science reports, Steve. I told you that.'_

_'And I don't buy it,' he said. He'd stepped close enough that Cecil could see him, but only barely. He was outlined from the waning light of the streetlamp just outside their little corridor. Cecil felt uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to back down. If an argument was what Steve wanted, then an argument was what Steve was going to get. 'What's he really doing? Fucking someone else?'_

_Cecil breathed in and out to keep himself from getting to angry. 'He's trying to figure out how to propose to me. He think I don't know, so I've been pretending like I don't. He wouldn't do that to me, Steve, and we both know that. He's not you.'_

_Steve huffed. 'I can't believe you're still mad about that.'_

_'Why shouldn't I be? He was just cheap, knock-off version of me anyway,' Cecil spat. He massaged his forehead with his index finger and thumb. 'You know what? I don't have to justify myself to you. Carlos is waiting for me to get back home. Have a nice life, Steve.'_

_Steve grabbed his arm roughly, not enough to turn him around completely but enough to get Cecil to turn on his own. 'Did it ever occur to you that maybe I cheated because he was already all you could think about?'_

_Cecil glowered at Steve, looking up through the fringe falling in his eyes. 'You and Kevin started seeing each other long before Carlos even transferred. I don't care what your excuse is, Steve. I'm happy with Carlos. Now let go of me, please.'_

_'You wouldn't even give me a second chance,' Steve continued as though he hadn't even heard Cecil speak, and maybe he hadn't. 'We were just over and suddenly Carlos was everything.' Cecil started to struggle against Steve's grip, since he wasn't getting the verbal message. 'But I don't hear you call him perfect any more, Cecil,' Steve said, voice dangerously low. 'I think it's time to re-educate you, maybe, on what perfect really means.'_

_Cecil felt chills running up and down his spine, cold sweat staining his arms like the tentacles of some mighty beast enveloping him, keeping him immobile. 'Steve, whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't,' he pleaded._

_'Shhh,' Steve said, taking Cecil's other wrist in hand and caressing his hair. 'Don't worry. I'm going to take care of you.' And Cecil very much doubted that._

_Steve forced his lips on Cecil's, as Cecil wriggled in his grasp. He couldn't feel anything in his limbs, like his body was just shutting down no matter how much he wanted to fight and get away. 'Steve,' he tried to beg against the other man's lips, but Steve painfully jabbed a knee into Cecil's stomach._

_'Shhh, baby,' Steve said. 'Don't make this harder than it needs to be.'_

_Cecil wanted to speak. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back, to claw Steve, shove his eyeballs back into his head like he'd seen in a Stephen King movie once. But he couldn't do anything. It was like he wasn't really there, watching the scene in third person. He still twisted, turned, kept moving and kept earning slaps and pinches and angry hisses as Steve turned him around, slamming him face-first into the brick wall. 'Keep your mouth shut,' he growled, and a little part of Cecil died – the part of him that wanted to see the good in other people, in everyone. But that wasn't the only part of him that fell away. The part that fought back was silenced, too._

_It hurt. Cecil was hardly a virgin – he and Carlos had been in a steady relationship for five years, and Cecil wasn't a virgin when they met, either – but he knew from the various psychological reports that landed on his desk every year when giving out safety tips over the radio that rape didn't have to do with love. It had to do with power. It wasn't even about sexual attraction so much as what the attacker could gain from the situation, but Cecil hadn't ever expected it to happen to him. He kept thinking of the women in his life, with a newfound respect for the fear they must have felt, knowing how statistically likely this was to happen to them at some point in time in their lives. He felt angry. He felt terrified._

_He continued to give out choked and mangled screams, not quite loud enough for anyone but Steve to hear, as his legs were spread and Steve forced his way in. They might not have had any sound at all, except in his head; surely the brick wall covering his mouth and nose blocked out any sound he could have hoped to make. He chafed and it hurt like hell. He must be bleeding by now. He couldn't understand why Steve would do this – wasn't he hurting himself as well?_

_'Stop squirming,' Steve commanded gruffly. He still had both of Cecil's wrists encased in one of his hands, and he used the free hand to grind his forehead into brick wall. Cecil swallowed a groan of pain. He was stuck between his two options – fight back and make it worse, or just hold out and wait until it was over._

_The worst came when the free hand left its hold on Cecil's hair, snaking down his pants and fisting his cock. Cecil gasped in anguish. 'Steve, no, please –'_

_'Shut it!' Steve snarled, jerking Cecil's member harshly, yanking it more than stroking. Cecil was crying softly by now, pretending it wasn't happening even as it ended. Steve dislodged himself, letting Cecil fall to his knees. Cecil could feel his cold eyes boring into him, pitying him as he vomited on the ground in front of him._

_'You're not going to get away with this. You know that,' Cecil threatened._

_Steve laughed genuinely, and the sound was so dissonant from the action that Cecil put one hand on the wall and dry-heaved. 'Really, Cecil? Look at yourself. You came. You really think anyone's gonna believe this wasn't consensual?' Cecil trembled, but didn't respond. 'And what about poor, perfect Carlos? You think he's still going to want you like you are now? You're a slut, Cecil. You just got what was coming to you.'_

* * *

Cecil had been strangely quiet throughout the day, and it was starting to make Carlos anxious. At first, he thought this was just Cecil's way of observing, but he'd never been quiet for this long. Not even the first time Carlos had taken him out of the hospital, or any of the times when he'd visited.

Cecil had started humming as they reached closer to Carlos's – well, their – apartment. It was night time, now, as it had taken them a while to shuffle through the station's messy paperwork and find Dana's file, call up and meet with her distraught parents, and manage to find something decent yet quick to eat while they worked through it all.

Cecil closed his eyes, resting his head against the headrest, singing softly. 'Don't say a prayer for me now… save it 'til the morning after no don't say a prayer for me now… save for the morning after…' As he sang to himself, Cecil let his hand creep toward Carlos's, and Carlos let their fingers intertwine. It felt so nice.

'Cecil?' he called softly.

Cecil let his eyes flutter open, gazing up at Carlos. 'Yes, dear Carlos?'

Carlos licked his lips, unsure of how to continue without sounding too accusatory. 'You've… you've been awfully quiet today.'

'Well,' Cecil reasoned, 'It has been a big day. A lot to take in, really, all the time recently.'

'I know, it's just –' Carlos let out a short breath, trying to reorder himself. 'In the past… if there was a problem, anything that was making you anxious, you'd talk about it. So it's just… it's bothering me, you know, a little bit. It's worrying me that you're not talking.'

Cecil peered down into his lap. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It's just… difficult. I don't want to annoy you.'

Carlos shook his head, pulling into the driveway and turning off the car. 'Cecil, you could never annoy me. Not really.'

Cecil leaned in to kiss him, softly, just a few times, before pulling back to put their foreheads together. 'Good,' he said. 'And once I have something worth reporting, something I know how to put into words, I'll tell you. Deal?' Carlos nodded, and they exited the vehicle.

When they actually reached the apartment, they started out with slow kisses and caresses, things Carlos knew Cecil would be able to handle. But that was all Carlos wanted to do, though Cecil wanted to go further. Cecil huffed in agitation as he pushed Carlos back into their bedroom, stripping him of his shirt and caressing his upper body. Carlos helped him out of his own shirt, placing his hands on Cecil's shoulders and sliding them down with precision.

Cecil pushed him farther down the bed, smothering his mouth with kisses, and laid down on top of him. He placed his hands on Carlos's hips, starting to squirm with discomfort. It's okay, he told himself. I'm just aroused. He bent his head into the crook between Carlos's head and shoulder, kissing up the sweat he found there. He licked behind the shell of Carlos's ear for good measure, as Carlos's hands trailed up and down his back. Cecil bucked his hips on Carlos's thigh, and felt a jolt of pleasure. Pleasure, and something else

He couldn't remember retreating to the wall on the other side of the room, or tearing at his hair with both hands, or screeching loudly. But he did, nonetheless, find himself on the other side of the room, hands in his hair, throat raw from the sudden outburst.

Carlos slowly stood up, and came to crouch in front of him. 'Cecil?' he started, tentatively.

Cecil choked, sobbing. 'I'm sorry, Carlos, I'm so sorry,' he said. His hands fell from his hair to cover his eyes. 'I came when it happened. I didn't want to, I didn't even know I was, it just happened – involuntary reaction –'

'Cecil,' Carlos said calmly. 'Are you talking about that night, about the attack?'

Cecil couldn't find the words to answers, wailing mixing in with his tears. He nodded solemnly instead, feeling utterly miserable.

'Cecil,' Carlos called, placing one hand on his kneed to steady himself as he rearranged, now sitting cross-legged in front of him. 'Cecil, look at me.'

Cecil did look up, eyes filled with tears. 'Cecil, it's okay.'

'No it's not,' he whispered. 'I cheated on you – I didn't even mean to, but –'

Carlos shook his head. 'You didn't, Cecil.'

'Are you sure?' he asked lamely, looking around the room, at anything except Carlos.

Carlos nodded. 'Cecil,' Cecil looked back at him, still frightened of being let go. 'We don't always have control over our bodies. Bodies just… they do weird things. Sometimes we get aroused when we're scared and that doesn't mean we're actually turned on. Sometimes we get anxious when we're excited in a good way, or start crying when we don't feel sad. We don't have total control over what happens to us. What happened – that's just a thing our bodies do. It doesn't mean you were consenting, it doesn't mean you enjoyed it.

'Come here,' he offered, holding out a hand. Cecil crawled into his lap, fisting his hands on the skin of Carlos's back. 'Why don't we just sleep together tonight? No sex, I'll just hold you, and you just hold me. Does that sound okay?'

Cecil still shivered in his arms, and Carlos wondered if he'd even heard him. 'I know what I said earlier, when I was telling you, about how things can't just go back to the way they were. But I just – I still wanted things to go back to normal, Carlos. I wanted – I want you to be able to have me, I want to please you. I want to make you happy.'

Carlos took hold of Cecil's shoulders, extricating his boyfriend from his body. 'Cecil, that's… that's very nice of you, but you're not an object. You're a person, a real living being, and you can't just force yourself to "work" because you think it's what I want.

'And for the record, Cecil, what I want is you, just you, in any way that you're willing. And if that means we can't have sex, then I'm fine with that. It doesn't matter to me. I mean, you're gorgeous, and I am very attracted to you, but I want _you_, not your body.'

Cecil leaned his head against Carlos's shoulder, as Carlos smoothed his hands up and down Cecil's back. 'I love you, Carlos. I love you so much,' Cecil whispered. 'But what if things never go back to normal?'

Carlos looked down at him. 'Cecil, you and me, we've never been normal.' Cecil gave off a choked laugh, brushing tears from his cheeks. Carlos's lopsided smile dissipated into a frown. 'In all seriousness… Cecil, it's like you said. Things can't go back to the way they were before. That's not possible. I'm sorry, it just isn't. But it's not all bad,' he rushed, before Cecil could start to panic. 'It's not as though I don't love you anymore. I do. I adore you with all of my heart. But you can't just pretend like this whole incident never happened. _We_ can't just pretend like this whole incident never happened. It's not healthy, and it won't make the reality of it any less true.

'Now that we're both on the same page, do you think we could just, I dunno, cuddle?'

Cecil nodded in agreement, closing his eyes to rest on Carlos's form again. 'Carlos,' Cecil said seriously. 'I think I'll need to see a therapist.'

Carlos pulled back again, opening his mouth to respond. 'No, no,' Cecil said. 'Not right now. I know they're all asleep right now. But promise you'll take me in the morning, okay?' Cecil asked. Carlos closed his mouth softly, nodding in agreement.


	8. Chapter 8

_Cecil pretends like everything is fine, and like the smile he's had plastered on his face for the past twenty-four or so hours isn't fake. He tries to be a good co-worker, a good citizen, a good boyfriend. He tries. But he can't help that he's exhausted from the pretence. He keeps letting his mind wander and his eyes shift closed until someone in station management hollers for him to go home and 'get some shut-eye.' At home, he gets dreams he's never wanted. He can see Steve's face every time he closes his eyes, and he just wants to make it stop. He wants to be able to sleep for a long time and not think about anything. I should take a shower, he thinks to no one. How long has it been since he's showered?Doesn't matter, he tells himself. Sleep first, shower later._

_He's had these sleep-aids in his medicine cabinet for as long as he can remember, just in case. He's been lucky, though, because he's rarely had to take them. If anyone, Carlos has needed them more often – his experiments keep him so fascinated and wired that he often has trouble getting to and staying asleep. Because it's been so long since he's needed them, Cecil can't remember how much he's supposed to take. For some reason, he can't force himself to care. He pops the cap and pours a bunch of the little capsules into the palm of his hand. Then he downs them back, sets the bottle down, and goes to lay down and sleep._

_There's a voice in his head screaming, telling him to call out for Carlos or for someone. You need help, the voice tells him, but he bats it away. What would he say, even if someone came? He's been trying to get words out for the past… how long has it been? The words have been trying to escape. He's been trying to let them. They've been trying to choke them._

_But it's okay. After he sleeps, it'll all be easier._

* * *

When Cecil woke up, Carlos's arms were no longer around him. In fact, he was quite cold, but there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. It couldn't be too bad.

He almost tripped up Carlos, startling him as they met nearly nose-to-nose. Carlos had some sort of tray in his arms, with food on it. Cecil felt his insides churn, melting together guilt from his dream and the surge of love he always feels around Carlos. Carlos, who pecked him on the nose and demanded he get back in bed. Carlos, who was making him bed in breakfast. Cecil's never had that before. As he settled back against the headboard of their bed, he tried to figure out which Night Vale he was in.

'It's so good to have you back,' Carlos said. Cecil was surrounded by food that Carlos had made, and Carlos was slipping back into bed beside him. Carlos's entire face was red with blushing. 'I was so excited I just went a little –' they looked at each other for a moment, both aware thatcrazy was the word that usually came next. Carlos managed to save the day, as always, by supplanting 'overboard' at the last minute. It's a much more fitting word, anyway.

'It's okay,' Cecil said. 'I don't think I've ever been so hungry.' He digged into the nearest food, huevos rancheros, and eyed the rest of what Carlos had made. Cheesey scrambled eggs, waffles, pancakes, hashbrowns – 'Geeze, Carlos, you think you made enough food?'

Carlos blushed. 'I just - I wanted to make sure you were well-fed. You've gotten kinda skinny.'

Cecil rolled his eyes. 'Thanks mom,' he said, but planted a kiss on Carlos's cheek anyway. The two ate in relative silence, the loudest noise in the room coming from Carlos's mouth as he chewed on his bacon. Cecil could tell he was contemplating something, wondering how to talk to Cecil about a sensitive subject. But he knew Carlos well; he wouldn't keep Cecil waiting for long.

'I've managed to book an appointment,' he said finally. 'With that woman who was working at the hospital. She's free at noon, if you'd be okay talking to her?'

Cecil had to swallow very slowly, or he might have vomitted. He felt his head pounding wickedly, but he tried to ignore it. 'Sh - Uhm, sure. It's just - you know, the hospital -'

'No,' Carlos interrupted. 'We wouldn't be meeting her at the hospital. She does appointments at her house. And besides,' Carlos licked the grease from his fingers, still avoiding Cecil's gaze anxiously. 'The hospital's been closed down, pending an investigation.'

'What?' This time, Cecil did choke just a bit. He managed to catch little bits of food onto a napkin, but was a little too shocked for the embarrassment of this slip up to really matter.

Carlos pretended to brush crumbs from his robe. 'Yeah. They've, ah, released most of the patients. The people who were at too high a risk have been transfered to another hospital. I got a call this morning from state police. They went to arrest Steve Carlsberg for the kidnapping of your friend Dana, only to find that he'd set the building on fire and left with whatever money was on premesis.' Cecil blinked, not sure how to feel about what he'd just been told. 'No one was hurt,' Carlos added lamely.

'Cecil,' Cecil looked to where Carlos sat, biting his lip. 'Cecil, they need to know if you have to go back to the hospital. They can transfer you to a nice one, not too far away, if you think you need it, but they wanted me to talk to you about it first.'

Cecil licked his lips and contemplated the pattern on the wall. When the tension in the room tightened to a nearly unbearable state and Carlos was about to just say "nevermind," Cecil provided 'Let's see what the therapist thinks.'

* * *

Cecil wasn't sure what long-dead ancient gods Carlos had to pay tribute to in order to get him this appointment with his own therapist from the mental hospital, but he was beyond thankful. They were in the woman's house, in which she appeared to let out rooms to other people. Occasionally one would stop by the sitting room where Carlos and Cecil were waving and do a little small-talk before bustling off to wherever they needed to be. Carlos hadn't really meant to come in with Cecil, but the look Cecil had given him before exiting the car clearly said please don't leave me alone. Carlos was a little anxious himself, and so was willing to oblige.

The woman, whom Cecil had described as relatively faceless, came out with a tea tray and mugs for the three of them. Carlos looked up, a little surprised. 'Oh, I wasn't – I was just going to give you two time to talk alone? I thought that's how these things were done –'

'They are,' she interrupted. 'But I wanted to meet the famous Carlos the scientist first.' Carlos blushed. 'Also, if you intend to continue your long-term commitment to one another –'

'We do!' Carlos interjected, before it occurred to him that this wasn't meant as an attack on their relationship and that he hadn't even heard all that the woman had to say. 'I mean,' he mumbled, 'I do.'

'I do as well,' Cecil confirmed, placing a hand on Carlos's right knee and looking back up to his therapist.

'I think it would be beneficial to speak to you both first, as a couple, so that we can make sure you both know what you're getting into.

'Carlos,' she said, turning slightly to face him, forearms resting on her thighs as she leaned forward. 'You will need to keep in mind that Cecil won't tell you everything.' Carlos blinked in surprise. 'Not because he doesn't love or trust you, but for his own mental health. I know a lot of people, both therapists and patients, advocate for the release of repressed memories. I'm not saying that doing so is bad, but it's not always healthy. Reliving or remembering some traumatic events can do more harm than good, and so if Cecil asks you not to push the issue, don't. Do you understand?'

Carlos nodded, and though his grip on Cecil's hand had tightened, he felt more secure with some semblance of instructions to follow.

Next, she turned to Cecil. 'At the same time, Cecil, you should try to keep in mind that closing yourself off because you don't want to bother Carlos would be damaging both to you and to your relationship. He's here to support you – that's what relationships are for. He also doesn't know what it's like to be in your position – I'm assuming?' (Carlos nodded) 'And so if you don't at least try to tell him what's going on, he can't figure out what to do or how to help you, if he can.' Cecil nodded slowly, and exchanged a look of apprehension with Carlos. His stomach was tightening, the way it always did when things were starting to feel a little too real.

'I might ask to speak to you both as a couple again, assuming this isn't your final session -'

'It isn't,' Cecil blurted.

'Good,' the woman nodded. 'But I think that's all to say for now. Carlos, would you mind leaving us in private? You can go out to the garden, if you'd like.' Carlos nodded and kissed Cecil sweet and slowly on the cheek, his fingers sliding way from Cecil's. The woman waited until Carlos's footsteps had faded away to begin again.

'Have you been suicidal at all over these past few days?' she asked. Cecil wasn't sure how to respond, or why tears started spilling onto his cheeks. He let his forehead fall into his hands, elbows resting on his thighs.

'Not - not exactly,' Cecil said.

'Not exactly? How do you mean?'

Cecil shook his head, and pulled it up to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. 'I... God, I still think about it, sometimes, but wouldn't that be selfish? Shouldn't I be thinking of the other people in my life?'

The therapist cocked her head, brows furrowing slightly. 'No, not necessarily.'

'But that's what they always say about people who kill themselves. That they're being selfish, that they should have thought of others.'

'And that statement is, in and of itself, quite selfish,' she stated. 'People who are severely depressed think that those they love - assuming they believe anyone does love them - would be better off without them. It's a frightening thing, to know someone you love has contemplated suicide, or has attempted it. But that statement isn't a valid argument because of its hypocrisy. The person saying it is afraid not for the person they love, but afraid of what they themselves might lose. They're afraid of being alone. It's understandable, but it's not a very effective approach. Really, all it will do is make the depressed party feel worse about themselves. I believe that's the desired outcome, don't you?'

Cecil nodded. He chewed on his lip for a moment. 'What did you mean by, "not exactly"?'

'I think about how much easier it would be, to be dead. But I want to be able to see Dana and Carlos. I want to be able to go to work and take walks in the dog park. I want to be able to travel to Europe and do all the things I've dreamed of doing before, and I can't do that if I'm dead.

'But I have... I've thought of breaking up with Carlos,' he sighed.

'Why?'

Cecil looked away from the woman, ashamed. 'Because I might never get better. We might never be able to have sex again. I could still wake up in the middle of the night, screaming or crying. I might forget which parts of what I see are real. I might lose myself, and I'll just hold him back. I can't do that to him.'

'It's true,' she said. 'You can't.' Cecil looked up at her, slightly struck. This wasn't the encouraging sort of talk he expected from a therapist, but she was smirking. 'You literally cannot hold him back - he can hold himself back, if he wants to. You need to focus on yourself, and let him help you. Even if you broke up with him, I doubt he would leave you. He's very committed.'

'Committed...' Cecil trailed off. 'He was going to propose to me, before - before the accident.' He shook his head. 'What kind of husband would I make?'

'The same kind of boyfriend you are, I'd wager,' she said. 'Your relationship with Carlos is the least frightening thing you have to deal with in this world.' She leaned forward again, pressing over the coffee table. 'Right now, it would be easier for you to retreat and regress, to defend yourself. But that's not really living, Cecil.' The therapist sat back up straight, smiling softly. 'I can't tell you what to do, but I can recommend a few things.

'The first, quite simply, is that you let yourself be taken care of.' Cecil opened his mouth to protest - he wasn't a child, after all. He was an adult, perfectly capable of handling his own faculties. But still, she spoke over him. 'Take the days off if the station gives them to you. Let Carlos make you breakfast in bed, let Dana cover your shifts. Enjoy the break. The second, is some medication.'

Cecil blanched. 'What, like - like anti-psychotics?'

'No,' she said. 'I could suggest that, if you'd like, but I'm not sure you need something that heavy. These would be for anxiety, and when taken with regular therapy should help you to deal with the nightmares.'

Cecil eyed her suspiciously. 'I don't want to be crazy anymore.'

'If you had diabetes, would you take insulin?'

'Of course.'

'How is this different?' Cecil blinked, mouth slightly ajar, but he couldn't decide on an answer. Finally, he let his mouth close, nodding slightly to indicate his retreat. 'Now, is there anything else you'd like to talk about?'

* * *

Dana was finally released from the hospital about a week later, by her own insistance. Her parents threw a big barbeque, to which Cecil and Carlos were invited. Carlos wasn't so sure how good an idea it was for Cecil to attend such a big event, but they both were worried about Dana and it would be nice to get out of the house. It wasn't all fun and games, however. As per usual, the police picked the worst possible time to show up.

'The hell do you mean you can't find him?' Dana snapped. Liutenant Regis flinched back, slightly crumpling the hat in his hand.

'We can't cross state lines, ma'am, and it appears as though he isn't anywhere in Night Vale or the rest of the state.'

'So have the FBI go and find him!' her mother insisted. 'The man's guilty of rape and extortion and kidnapping and who knows what else!'

'Well,' the liutenant said uncomfortably, 'That's the thing. He's not actually been found guilty of anything. He hasn't been arrested, there's been no APB out for him and he's not considered dangerous. Unless some new evidence or accusation comes to light, there's nothing we can do.'

Liutenant Regis left the party with apologies on his lips and some distinctly dark colouring around his left eye. Dana and her mother both were fuming, her father trying to calm them down in a corner with some cups of lemonade. Cecil stood, cup in hand, staring at the grass. This was a test from god, surely, and Carlos didn't know if he could pass it.

'How are you feeling?' he asked. Cecil's head rose.

'Not...too bad, actually.'

'Do you need to talk to somebody?'

'I've got you.'

Carlos smiled, as Cecil cupped his hip and let his forehead fall to Carlos's shoulder. 'That's not quite what I meant.'

'I'm fine, Carlos, really. In fact, I'm kind of glad.' Carlos blinked in shock. Cecil smiled sadly. 'Not glad, mabye, but relieved. It's not that I don't want him to be punished - of course I do. I want him to be caught before he can do to anyone else what he did to me or Dana. But still... going through a court case would require so much drama. I'd have to see him again, and I don't know how good that would be for me, mentally.' He looked to Carlos, trying to read the thoughts running through his mind. 'I'm sorry.'

'Cecil, sweetheart, no,' Carlos kissed his forehead. 'If you're happy, then I'm ecstatic. If it's okay by you, it's fantastic for me.'

* * *

Cecil arched his back, panting, and pushed farther into Carlos's hand, digging his fingernails into Carlos's shoulder blades. He bit his lip to quell the whining.

Carlos kissed his cheek. 'Look at me, love. I need you to see me, to know who this is.' Cecil blinked, panting harder with the effort of staying lucid. Carlos swept his fingers through Cecil's hair, maintaining eye contact as he squeezed his hand.

Cecil gasped, his eyes squinting but not closing all the way as he came. He shivered slightly as he came down, kissing the corner of Carlos's mouth. Carlos held him close, running both hands over Cecil's smooth body. 'You okay?' he asked.

'I'm perfect,' Cecil said. It had been over two months - nearly three, in fact - since he'd said it, and meant it.

Next morning at the breakfast table, he found a glass of orange juice, a cup of coffee, and a plate empty but for a small velvet box. His insides clenched, ever so slightly.

'So I was thinking,' Carlos said, setting down the paper in his hands. 'That I'd like to marry you.'

Cecil smiled, and tried to hide it. He didn't want to get his hopes up. 'Things could go all wrong.'

'How long have we been together, Cecil? Hella long, and they haven't gone wrong yet.' Cecil raised an eyebrow. Carlos sat up straight, bended knee unfolding. 'Come here,' he said softly. Cecil walked around his chair to sit in Carlos's lap. 'I love you, Cecil. I've loved you from the moment I met you, even if I couldn't see it then. And I want nothing more than to be with you. I know what the risks are, but the risks have always been there. What's happened within this year - that doesn't change anything. It could have happened later on. It could have happened earlier on. It could still happen, again, or to me tomorrow. And I want to be there with you if it does, or when it doesn't.'

'But it's so... legal.'

'That's the point, mi amor. From where we are right now, I can't come visit you in the hospital, or sell you off into slavery, or whatever else marriage gives you the legal right to do.'

Cecil laughed, and slapped a hand over his mouth. 'Jesus, Carlos -'

'Yes?'

Cecil licked his lips, looking into his lover's eyes and hoping to see the future. And he was so thankful, because all he could see was the present. He leaned down, lips lingering against Carlos's, and whispered, 'Yes.'


End file.
